A Fateful Past
by Badpenny232
Summary: Thorin/oc- Originally appearing with Lost destiny and Hidden Past: Love, secrets and danger, Thorin has known all. Thorin and his Soulmate , Lif, played with fire and got burned. But the past can never die and can never be forgotten. He is a Prince brought to his knees by Smaug, by the betrayal of the elves and by the Innocent blood that is on his hands.Young Company- sex and vio
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all, this story originally appeared in my Lost Past and Hidden Destiny Story, but I really love the characters so here they are. **

* * *

Thorin leaned back on is chair and tried to suppress a yawn, the hard oak pressed into his back uncomfortably due to the hours of sitting. The council chamber was warm and stuffy, heated by a massive fireplace in the centre of the marble table; Thorin was slowly being lulled into a sleepy malaise. Rubbing at the tired irritation of his eyes, he ran a hand over his tired face, pulling at his beard in an attempt to keep himself awake.

The council meetings were only supposed to last an hour technically but they always ran late, this one was about to break an all time record. Five hours over schedule, lunch had been missed and supper was beginning to look doubtful.

His father was sitting to his left, sat stern and hard faced at the head of the table. The elders of Erebor talked of politics, the winter corn supply and yield, an increase in nomadic tribes and a new ventilation system for the deeper tunnels. But Thrain's face was still and impassively blank as he let the other Dwarves talk around him.

Encouraged by his grandfather, Thorin tried to make an increasing appearance in these meetings, although generally his mind was on other places, outside in the warm sunshine of Dale or walking along one of the many balustrades in the crisp morning air.

Against the murmuring of political talk, the halls large silver doors opened a little with a creek, allowing the noises of the mountain's buzzing atmosphere to drift in, before closing with a thud cutting them in silence.

White and pale, spooking from the darkness like a phantom, a small figure appeared behind Freorin's chair. Arching her body around over the table and filling his goblet from a large jewelled pitcher.

Her body was small, actually petite compared with other She-Dwarves. Although from what Thorin could make out at a distance, she had pleasing curves hidden under a plain leather bodice and pillowing white shirt with a dark green floor length skirt and apron. But what Thorin really couldn't keep his eyes off was her long dark hair as it patted the small of her back as she bustled her way around the table. Her eyes politely bowed staring at the floor, lowered in humble courtesy.

Like on the face of a clock the minutes ticked by and slowly but surely she made her way around the table of councillors until she was only two chairs away from Thorin. Visibly pale skinned, her jade eyes beamed under lashings of dark wavy hair, which was plaited and neatly pinned back with simple bronze clasps. Her dark sideburns were neatly braided and woven with a thin blue ribbon.

The simplicity of it: not plainness but natural. Thorin could barely hold himself straight in his chair as he gazed at the maid. This was how dwarves were intended to be without all the gaudy decoration they layered themselves in, as Aüle intended.

His mind was abruptly clouded with the smell of sage and cleanly pressed linen. In his moment of realisation he hadn't noticed she was now next to this chair and with a warm crush of fabric she reached forward and began to fill his cup. Inches from the hollow of her throat Thorin's eyes drank her in like a fine wine on a warm day.

On closer inspection she was white and ashen, slight bags purpling under her eyes, and her lips only the palest of pinks. Rosebud pink, plump and ready to be taken.

Twisting her lips into a slight wince, the maid gently set the pitcher down next to him, showing fingers worn red and weathered. Blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face, she rotated her hand as if getting a kink out her wrist, clenching her jaw and frowning as she did so.

Thorin's body made a jerking movement as he realised his body was leaning forward, hand seeking hers. With a cold chill of realisation he snatched back his hand and flung it down on the solid arm of his chair, making a deafening thwack! With echoed mockingly around the rafters of the room.

"You have something to say my Prince?" one of the council members who paused in mid sentenced asked with a raised eyebrow of surprise.

Thorin cleared his throat and shifted nervously, noticing the slightly lingering look of amusement and a suppressed smile that warmed the maid's features as she ducked away behind his chair and carried on her duties. Swallowing hard Thorin tried to push her from his mind and replied unconvincingly to his elder, "I just wanted to show my...support to you motion."

"You support the extension to the lower treasure chamber, very good milord." The elder confirmed and the notary took down the resolution, with mumbles of approval from around the room. And Thorin let out a steady breathe of relief as he gazed at the maid lingeringly as she closed the door behind her. Thorin tried to swallow his embarrassment, women never perplexed him no matter who they were, but this one deeply shaken him and would do for nights to come, her ghostly figure appearing to him in his most carnal of desires, it would haunt him day and night until fate brought them together again.

* * *

His father had always been a distant man, pressure of politics and ruling the masses, would cause any dwarf to become despondent. But Thrain was empty, shallow; words seemed to have no or very little effect on him. Only the glimmer of gold could do that, gold was the only love of his life. Thorin suspected a depression after his mother had past but this was a complaint of the soul.

Thorin held himself tight against the shadows as the Kings guard did his father's bidding. Yes, gold was his father's only love now, even over his own people.

He closed his eyes and swallowed bile and guilt, pressing his body further in the wall behind him, as yet another family was ripped from their homes by the King's men. Thorin had to actually turn his face away when as a frail old Dwarf was thrown to the floor, the old Dwarf turned his body, hands outstretched and pleading "Please where are we to go? My family has lived in these halls for hundreds of generations. I'm sure there has been some kind of misunderstanding," His voice was paper thin, weak and shaking his hands shook as he pulled down on the guards tunic.

Strong and surly, the guard shoved the man away without remorse or pity, "Are you calling the King mistaken? That sounds like rebellion talk to me don't you think Funir?" He turned with a smile to his comrade and started to withdraw his sword.

Muscles tensed in anger, Thorin was about to slit the guards throat for the blasphemous use of his grandfather's name but suddenly out of the empting halls the phantom who had been haunting his dreams sprang forward, arms defiantly outstretched ,shielding the cowering man with her small body. She looked at them wildly, jaw clenched and challenging.

"Please!" her voice was strong but her eyes pleaded. "He means no harm. How can it be the King's wish to have people thrown out of their home without anytime to collect belongings or seek shelter elsewhere? Are your orders really to target old warriors who pledged their lives to King under the Mountain?" She demanded staring obstinately up at the largest guard holding his sword raised high.

"Another revolutionary, we know what to do with the pretty rebels like this one don't we Agmir," The smaller one had advanced now leering down at her with a smirk he viciously snatched a fistful of the women's braid and with a gasp of pain she sank to her knees as he twisted his fist tighter into her hair.

The guard froze as her felt Thorin's blade biting into his throat. Blinded with rage he'd moved without thinking. "Is it really my father's wish that you treat its honourable citizens like dogs, kicking them out into the cold?" His voice was barely audible growl in the soldiers' ear but everyone froze, too shocked to fully react. The Dwarf swallowed, his Adam's apple pressing against the blade, cold sweat growing on his brow.

"Milord we were only doing as commanded, the new extensions to the treasure vault mean that..." The other guard stammered but his words were cut off as Thorin pushed the Dwarfs body away from his, violated by a sudden rush of nausea.

"Clear out your barracks; make beds and hospitality available to all who need it." He barked commands at the guards who nodded hurriedly casting his eyes about the flame lit corridor; twenty families huddled together in silence, clinging to each other in support. They looked on at him with cold searching eyes.

"Lady," He let his blade lower itself to the floor as his eyes stared down at the She Dwarf in front of him. Lips parted slightly, her eyes were quivering jade fires of confusion, they searched his face but apart from a slight crinkle of the eyebrows his face was a mask of impassiveness.

Suddenly Thorin felt the gazes on him like a heavy burden or like rats in a sewer, it made his skin crawl.

"Go!" The Prince of Erebor is always respected; bystanders jumped at his bark and scuttled away quickly. The girl too, scrambled to leave but as she gathered her skirts, Thorin stopped her by grabbing a fistful of apron, suppressing the urge to pull her body against his, he merely held her in place.

Letting out a little gasp she whirled around, fumbling slightly, she curtsied, eyes down cast in respect. "Your majesty," Her voice was quiet, like honey running slowly through hot water. Thorin had to stifle a shiver that ran up his spine.

"Who are you?" it came out sterner than he intended, his nails bit into the palm as his tummy squirmed in nerves.

"I am Lifthrasir, daughter of Mimir but many simply call me Lif." Her penetrating eyes flicked nervously to his face and back down to the floor.

Thorin raised his eyebrows in surprise. He knew of Mimir, he'd fought with him even but Mimir was dead and gone. Having been the only one to speak about the dangers of the Akenstone, Mimir was exiled out of Erebor never to return, soon after he threw himself off one of the many battlements in disgrace and shame. But Thorin had been unaware of a daughter, let alone any children.

"And you desired to stay in Erebor even though your father..." He asked tentatively, wanting to gain further understanding of the women before him.

At the mention of her father her eyes blazed with passionate anger. "My father was wise and loyal and for all his loyalty to the throne he was rewarded with shame. I am the last of my father's name and I will not shrink in fear of retribution." Her face was a grim mask but flushed with a warming glow like she had been stood in front a furnace, she growled her words through clenched teeth.

Thorin actually smiled, unguardedly, Lif was refreshingly unmoved by Thorin's royal standing. "Then your courage does your house credit. Not many would have defended the vulnerable like you did." He tilted his head down slightly catching her eye, causing a little smile to warm her complexion. "Someone's got too" her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Well you shouldn't have to. I do believe that's my job," Thorin chuckled unexpectedly, dragging a hand through his long black hair. "Will you go and join the others?" a mild sounding question but heavy with silent meaning for Thorin.

"No, I have no family; it would not be my place. I would not be welcome there." She said flatly, looking uneasily away down towards the flickering torch lights of the corridor.

"Stay with me," the words sprung from his mouth before he knew what he was truly saying but his body wanted to be near her so desperately and the need grew urgently with every waking second.

Lif's face was a perfect picture of shock, her mouth fumbling silently to form words. "My Lord, I don't even know you...you, you presume..." her face turned to revulsion and she began to back away from him.

Suddenly the penny dropped for Thorin and his cheeks burned red in embarrassment. "No! Aüle no, that's not what I meant. I was not asking you...you to be my love...mmistress, I swear on the Durin line. You are a stunning She Dwarf but..." He stopped talking and stewed in his mortification for a bit, looking from her defensive stance, down to his feet then up to meet her eyes. He also tried desperately not to think of the illicit images running through his head or how good it would feel to have her long hair tickling the length of his body. It was a herculean effort to think of anything but her.

His steady gaze was pale and cool under the flushed colour of his skin. In the flickering light, dressed in royal blue and standing nearly half a foot taller than her, Prince Thorin was both beautiful and chilling.

"A royal retainer who can speak frankly without any political ties would be of use to me." He stated plainly and without emotion.

Relaxing a little, Lif smiled challenging up at his face. "You wouldn't be popular in the court. It would be more respectable if I were something more acceptable to my station." Thorin nodded, the court could be a hot bed of gossip.

"If you are more comfortable, you may choose your own position. But we must be quick, supper will be served soon and it doesn't do well to anger my father." Thorin saw a flicker of fear pass over her face and in a rash movement he extended his hand and gently unravelled a braid that had come undone under the grip of the guard's paw.

Although an intermit and teasing movement, Lif didn't flinch away, she merely kept her face coolly titled up towards his. Thorin was in inner turmoil; her hair was like melting snow in the palm of his hand. Oh Damn Aüle, how his body ached to press his lips into her hair and caress the soft skin of her neck.

"You said I was stunning," she said mildly, her eyes taking in the Prince before her. The look on Thorin's face was unreadable, a quagmire of inner emotions played upon his face for only a second. He let his strong hand fall silently from her shoulder but retained his eye contact. Lif's eyes danced with different shades of spring green as she studied him.

He intrigued her and he hated her for making him want her even more. Suddenly he turned on his heel and marched in the other direction. "Come on! I cannot be late!" calling over his shoulder he worked away into the dim light while the heat of Lif's body pressed against him as she jogged to keep up.

* * *

"Women grow cold Thorin." His father had preached this lesson to Thorin before, many times, and in fact he had heard it so many times that he knew what words were coming next.

"The warmth of a woman can only last through the nights, while gold will keep you warm for eternity." Thrain ran a long finger over the rim of his jewelled goblet, gazing down at the dazzling reflection that his hand made in its shiny service.

"Political alliances are how the line of Durin has grown so strong." His eyes looked up from his goblet with feverish intensity, quivering dull blue hidden slightly under hooded eyelids. "Love is the thing of elves and men, simple minded weaklings. The warmth of a She-Dwarves' thighs is only as good as the gold she brings to the table, do you hear me Thorin?" His old fragile frame turned back to his goblet and stared mesmerised at the precious metal. For his part Thorin sat silent, mulling in quiet resentment of his father's words. When he was a boy, he and his sister had been in awe of their mother and father's marriage, so full of love and life but after his mother's death Thorin had realised it was all a convenient sham. No love had conceived Dis or himself, they we're merely obligatory trophies to be hung on a shelf.

"Love is for weak men, small, pitiful men who let their cocks rule their body like an Orc controls a Warg." Thrain scoffed and slurped a mouthful of wine from his cup. Thorin clung white knuckled to the arms of his chair and listened in silence.

"Mark my words well son, love is not for the likes of us. We are made of stone, Dwarves with strong arms and cold hearts. The Kings of Erebor must endure and with it the great line of Durin, no matter the well- bred pig you have to ride to ensure it." Thrain's chalice now empty, he waved it blindly in the air for a refill, his words slightly slurred.

"The Arkenstone is the heart of the mountain and to keep the heart going we need royal blood, the thicker the better. Noble born and rich, wet with gold my boy! Wet with gold!" Thorin had only understood Thrain's crude words when he had reached maturity but even now the bitterness and screeched laughter as Thrain slapped Thorin on the back made his stomach flip with disgust.

Ignoring his father's raucous laughter, Thorin drained his goblet and refilled it and drained it again, a drunken stupor would be the only thing to stave of nightmares tonight; nightmares of what he may have to do to guarantee Durin's line.

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**Comment and tell me what you think. Nice reviews make me write quicker. **

**Really trying to get this done before my exams hit because at the moment I'm putting off doing essays to write this, Now that is commitment!**

**The next chapter coming soon, so keep reading!**


	2. Damnation and Bookends

**WARNING- SEXUAL ANGST**

**Again just to let you know, this was originally from Lost Pasts and Hidden Destiny's, but I loved Lif so much I've made it seperate. **

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The house of Durin had been one of the first rooms to be carved out of the mountain and as such was probably the biggest and the most grand. Self contained, it was free from the noises of the outside world, its marble halls quiet and peaceful: a calming place to think.

At its centre was one large whining spiral stair case that led up from the servant's quarters at the very bottom, to his Grandfathers chambers at the top. The Kings rooms looked out over the highest peaks of Erebor: down on Dale from a massive balcony and stained glass windows. Underneath that was his father's bed chambers and study, another two floors were taken up with a guest floor and a private parlour that was rarely used and underneath that was the children's floor.

Set aside for the adolescents of the house, it had its own private entrance way that was only ever used by Dis, Frerin or Thorin, as a way to avoid prying eyes. On this floor the three bedrooms surrounded a large marble hallway that was heated by one large blazing fireplace, this hallway then led to the Durin's private library. The three bedrooms were identical, all including a small sitting area, ensuite and individual balcony that looked out over the valley.

Though these rooms were lavish and beautiful, Dis and Frerin usually spent their nights elsewhere. At this very moment Frerin was probably laying in a warm bed, enjoying the company of one of his many lady friends. Dis on the other hand preferred to stay at one of her ladies in waiting home. She preferred the warm and friendly atmosphere, homely and cheerful, as opposed to cold and inhospitable. Thorin couldn't blame her; it was like living in a mausoleum, but with a royal attendant to check on him before he went to sleep and when he woke up, he couldn't see any way out of it. As the heir to Erebor, he was stuck where he was.

And at that moment, Thorin was trapped going through the autumn grain invoice for the coming winter. He let out a long loud yawn, rubbing his tired eyes that had started to ache in the flickering fire light of the library, and poured another mug of fine apple cider. He was about to give up trawling through the never ending pages of numbers when the heavy library door creaked open, casting light over the floor, before a small figure pushed through the crack, closing it behind them with a thud.

Thorin watched silently from the shadows, as the figure stumbled about in the dark, trying to find a candle.

"Holy fucking Aüle!" there was a heavy thunk, and Lif's voice cursed wildly, kicking back at whatever she'd stubbed her toe on.

Thorin sat frozen in the darkness, thoughts and emotions whirling through his head. He hadn't seen Lif for almost a week, taking every precaution to avoid her, he slept late and worked late into the night everyday and purposefully missed meals just to avoid another embarrassing scene like the one in the council chamber.

Suddenly a flame flickered to life in the far corner of the room, eliminating at countless shelves of worn leather bound book and rows of old parchment, they rose high from floor to ceiling, layered thick with dust over the ages.

Now with the lit candle in hand, Thorin could see Lif clearly as she moved, although her body was slightly hidden by one of the many large wooden desks that sat opposite Thorin, her shirt and apron were wrinkled and dusty, with muddy wet patches on her knees. Her hair and beard too were dishevelled: with wispy baby hairs pulled free of their braids and curling around her tired face.

Placing the candle stick on the forth shelf up, she picked up a book in the crook of her arm and reached across the desk for another one. She jumped violently in surprise as she saw him hiding in the shadows, letting the books fall from her hands. Cursing under her breath, she hastily picked them from the floor, standing up she curtsied a little. Clearing her throat a little, she addressed him.

"I am very sorry to disturb you my Lord; I didn't think anyone would be in here this time of night. Please excuse the intrusion," she stumble over her words and bowed her head on apology, making hurriedly for the door.

Before he knew what he was doing, Thorin was up on his feet, striding towards her, fighting to stop himself a metre or so away.

"Why are you up so late? Usually the other attendants have gone to bed hours ago," his deep voice was rich and mild, but his mere presence and aura demanded respect and showed his authority. In the flickering light where Thorin now stood, flames danced in his wavy dark curls and deepened the rich blue fabric of his tunic. Lif shuffled her feet awkwardly before answering him.

"I still have some chores that need to be done before the morning; I didn't feel right just leaving them," her voice was filled with earnest, her frown and lips drew together in determination. Thorin had to hide grin of amusement.

"What's so important that it keeps you from your bed?" Again Thorin's mouth betrayed him, and he had swallowed his frustration at himself. Well, for one thing, he sure knew what was keeping him from his bed; it was pale determined Dwarf in front of him. And the worst was she had no idea.

She gestured over her shoulder with her hand and shrugged a little, as she gave explanation "Well King Thror was entertaining Lord Vanir this evening and the banquet was long, so it took us a long time..." Thorin interpreted suddenly, disbelief and irritation making his voice harsher than he intended.

"You mean you're still working as a maid?" He couldn't believe this women's gumption, many couldn't take being a royal assistant let alone holding another job on top of that.

He studied her pale face and worn clothes, her folded hands looked red and sore, and realisation dawned on him. Lif nodded back at the Prince, her green eyes twinkling merrily, unbeknownst of his inner turmoil.

He looked away quickly and cleared the lump in his throat. If he had his way, he'd wrap her in silk sheets and drape her body with jewels, a woman like her should not be forced to work her fingers to the bone.

Thorin tilted his face to the fire and studied it before speaking. "Do you not enjoy it here?" his words came out thick and ineloquent, not that Lif noticed, she started to move, collecting books that had been left out on the table and putting them back in their rightful place. But was careful to show Thorin the respect he deserved, and kept her eyes on him, twisting her head over her shoulder.

"No no, not at all I love it here. I've met some... interesting people and the staff library is wonderful but...but I just like to work," she smiled at him before struggling to put a heavy book on a high shelf, hoping that the Prince wouldn't notice her momentary lapse of politeness; her colleagues in the servants quarters were snooty gits, but truly the staff library was excellent.

A fiery warmth spread through Thorin's chest like warm brandy at her words, he marched over to her, and tried to take the book from her hands. Enjoying the surprising heat radiating off her, the smell of crushed almonds that made his head swim, and the faint rustle of her skirt brushing against his legs. He fought every fibre of his being not to moan at the closeness of her.

Lif hadn't heard him move and gasped a little when a pair of large hands tugged at the book, she quickly let go and nodded her head in thanks. She turned back to the stack, picking up another to pass to him, while he effortlessly placed the heavy book on the shelf above, as if it was lighter than air.

"You shouldn't work so much, you'll make yourself ill," he chastised, taking the next book from her hands, he avoided her clear green eyes as they watched his movements with interest.

"But I like to work," she replied mildly, handing him yet another book.

"Yes, but not this late at night," he grabbed the book in one hand and gently took hold of her small hands with the other, casting a disapproving eye over the sore redness of her knuckles and blisters on her fingers . Lif watched a tick start in his jaw, before she answered.

"Not to be impertinent but, it appears I'm not the only one burning the midnight oil, am I?" She smiled up at him, her loose braids letting dark hair fall over her eyes.

Thorin's fingers itched to brush them away, but he retreated quickly, letting her small hand fall and withdrawing his body to the other side of the desk. His body calling physically out to be near her again, every fibre of his body needed her to be close.

Lif dropped her eyes, pressing her lips together, brushing dust from her hands, she made for the door. Her palm rested on the cool wood for a second as she turned back to Thorin. His arms were resting against the fire place, his face tilted down, studying the fire which danced and flickered in his brooding blue eyes. Lif watched him, mesmerised by the tightness of the muscles in his back and the thick rope like arms that just begged to be touched.

She looked away quickly, swallowing embarrassment and raising a hand to cool her burning skin. Taking a long deep breath, she turned back to the Prince.

"Goodnight My Lord Thorin, please try and get some sleep tonight," Lif inclined her head and then turned to the door.

Thorin's voice echoed, loud and clear, making her body shiver at his masculine voice. "Wait! I have a job for you."

Lif turned back in surprise. Thorin's body was still facing the fire but now his eyes were closed and his chin tucked against his chest, dark hair hanging beside his face, light dancing off the waves.

She waited for him to continue.

"Tomorrow morning, prepare my paper work and take notes for my meetings throughout the day. Meet me in the hallway at nine. One of the other servants will find you my schedule. That will be all." His tone was clipped and harsh, so cold that Lif had to stop herself physically recoiling. The charming dwarf with a pleasantly deep voice was gone, replacing him with this poorly built stone replica. But his tone was final and it was clear she been excused.

And with a final rustle of fabric and the gentle thud of the door closing, she was gone. Thorin let of a long painful breath, a lump weighing in his throat, his knuckles clenched white as held the marble fireplace like a life line.

_It had to be done_. No matter how many times he told himself, it still didn't make him feel better.

* * *

The other servants had proved very unhelpful when she asked for Prince Thorin's schedule. They whispered behind her back and sent her on wild goose chases. In the end she was given a scrap of tattered paper, covered in illegible scrawl and abbreviations. So she'd spent the night trying to decode the writing, had missed breakfast and was now sprinting up the spiral staircase, hair still damp from the bath, towards the Thorin's hallway.

She skidded on the smooth marble as she rounded the corner, coming face to face with the young Prince, who did not look pleased to be kept waiting. Standing with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the door frame of the library.

In truth she was actually perfectly on time, but Thorin must have been one of those people who were always early and never late. Lif made a mental note of this.

"You are late," his cold tone cut through her like a hot knife through butter. His body was tensed like a hunting predator, dangerous and lethal. Lif struggled to level her breathing.

"I am sorry My Lord," she didn't meet his eye but kept her head tilted to the floor. Above her, she Thorin's footsteps approach her a little and he cleared his throat.

"Very well, I suppose on your first day, we can make allowances," clipped and short, she sensed he was deeply irritated. He began to make for the door; she followed him but nearly ploughed into the back of him when he stopped abruptly.

"What's my first meeting?" he didn't meet her eyes, merely tilting his head over his shoulder a little, an annoyed tick started to appear in his jaw. Panic swept over her as she fumbled with the crumbling paper.

"Umm...it's..." she peered and squinted at the terrible handwriting, tilting the paper away in the hope that it might become easier to read.

"What is that?" Thorin had whirled round and was now starring with bewilderment at the tattered paper.

"It's your schedule..." her voice trailed off as his posture straightened and changed, a darkness falling over his features.

"There should be a better copy than that, one I had written specifically out," Thorin stated with no emotion in his words. Lif licked her dry lips and shifted uncomfortably, cold sweat coating the back of her neck.

"This is the only copy I was given, I could go check with the other..." Lif fumbled for words but Thorin interrupted her.

"No that won't be necessary, I can probably remember it," and with that he marched off down the hallway, striding so fast that she had to actually jog to keep up.

_Well that didn't go well, but least today can't get any worse, _Lif thought dryly, walking in Prince Thorin's wake as the crowd parted for him down the busy passageways.

Oh, if only she knew how wrong she was.

* * *

In truth the morning had proved to be very dull and boring, they went from meeting to meeting, talking with one stuffy politician then another, one stifling council room to another council room. Lunch time had come and gone, she was sitting in the corner of a private study taking notes, tummy clenched to suppress a crumble, jaw clenched to suppress a yawn.

Thorin sat opposite an elderly dwarf was had spoke for the last hour and a half about the importance of bees in the upper masonry. For the Prince's part he appeared attentive but Lif could tell be his glazed eyes that he was bored out of his mind.

It was another half hour before they were free, Thorin said his polite goodbyes and they walked through the halls back to the royal house. The halls were quiet because everyone was either taking a midday nap away from the afternoon heat or was having a late lunch.

Lif would have gladly chosen either. She merely rubbed her eyes trying to wake herself up, concentrated on the floor and keeping her feet moving.

"Why are you shaking you head?" Thorin asked, his eyebrow rose as he looked down at her. She hadn't realised she'd moved, but she had been rather deep in thought to realise. Lif started with surprise, it appeared to her, the prince only spoke when the mood took him. For example this morning he'd not said a word outside the lobby but in the library had been positively talkative in comparison.

"I was just thinking that I don't envy you. People say they'd love to be royal all the time, but you have so much pressure on your shoulders, I don't know how you handle it," she shot him a sideways glance, her lips pressed into an frank smile, he met her eyes for the briefest of seconds then looked away, down the long empty hallway.

She stopped suddenly and turned to him, her hands making fluttering flustered gestures.

"Forgive me My Lord, I spoke to plainly. What I meant to say is..." she looked for the right words but gave up and said whatever popped into her head. "Don't you ever get bored talking about...bees for hours?"

Thorin's face was impassive for a moment, calm and unnerving, Lif prepared herself for the angry tide of words to wash over her. She strengthened her spine and clenched her fists in preparation for Thorin's anger but it never came. Instead booming laughter, loud and merry filled the hallway, echoing off the high stone arched and around her head making her feel dizzy. Thorin's cheeks had turned an earthy red and his eyes had gained a surprising twinkle. His grin was broad and welcoming. But more surprising to Lif was that it was rare; she had never seen him so...animated.

"I ask myself the same thing every day, but it is welcoming to finally hear it out loud," his laugh subsided but he chuckled to himself every now and then.

They entered through the secret side passage doorway and climbed up the spiral staircase to Thorin's room. They didn't speak anymore, but we're both contented with the comfortable silence that fell over them.

As they entered the hallway Thorin stopped in front of his door and laid a hand on its silver handle. Thorin looked back at her, pressed his lips together and nodded his head approvingly.

"I shall write my notes up for you; will that be all My Prince?" Lif shuffled her feet for a moment before bowing her head and turning to retreat down the spiral staircase.

Suddenly and without warning, the hallway doors were thrown open and a tall warrior dwarf marched in. Dwalin, son of Fundin, was a terrifying figure, his eyes glinted and his Mohican was cropped short.

"Thorin, there has been a raid on Laketown and reports state the Orc pack are coming west to flank Dale too," Dwalin's words seemed to ignite a fire in Thorin, he sprang forward and grabbed his friend by the elbow.

"Call out the guard; I want a hunting party assembled by the hour!" there was angry passion in his words, but Bow could see the grin playing on his lips.

"Ah! Not a hunting party, it'll be filled with young Nancy boys trying to prove their worth," Dwalin let out a disgusted laugh filled with mirth as he made back for the door. Thorin wrenched open his door and laughed at his friend.

"We were those boys once, remember!" He retreated into his room, his laughter still drifting out. Dwalin was about to go through the door when he saw Lif and he let out an excited curse.

"Liftrasir! I haven't seen you in ages, where you been hiding?" He ran to her and caught her in a big bone crunching hug. They had played together as children, running wild through the passageways like street urchins. They had fought and wrestled, right up until Dwalin had hit puberty, Lif had been able to pin him to the ground and tickle him till he cried and begged for mercy. But his father had become wealthy and there family had moved away from the poorer houses, to somewhere more respectable. They still saw each other on occasion, drinking and fighting so much that more times than she could count, she'd had to carry the unconscious dwarf home.

"I work here now, I think I'm Thorin's assistant though I'm not entirely sure?" she grumbled and smirked, tugging at the warrior dwarfs beard.

"His assistant! Poor you, he'll work you into the ground," He let out a warm chuckle of laughter, and placed a massive paw on her shoulder, shaking her entire body.

"You coming with the hunting party?" his eyes sparkled at the thought of a good fight.

"Well I couldn't let you go and get your ass kicked now, could I?" She punched him hard, but playfully, in the chest. She darted away before he could react. She flung her body over the rail and slid down the banister to the servant's quarters.

Oh how she loved a good brawl!

Dwalin's gruff but excited voice drifted down the staircase. "I'll see you in an hour then!"

"Not if I see you first!" She shouted back, too much adrenaline running through her veins to care that the other servants were giving her disapproving looks.

* * *

The main stable was a hive of activity, the sounds of snorting horses, desperate wives, and rallying war cries danced off the rafters like a the gods themselves were stamping their feet in preparation for battle to commence.

Thorin ran down the last set of stairs, tying the last clasp of his mail and tugging his belt tight, enjoying the familiar weight of his sword tugging at his hip. As he entered a roudy cheer went up and dwarves on all side came to slap him on the back. He would have been swamped if Dwalin hadn't been there to push back his over-eager comrades.

"Glad to see you're joining us, thought you'd forgotten," Dwalin chucked, holding the reins of Thorin's stallion as the Prince mounted.

"A Prince never forgets Dwalin. I was merely biding my time," Thorin retorted as he settled himself in the saddle. Dwalin mounted a stout brown pony next to him, placing his war hammer and axe safely on the saddle but still in grabbing distance, with an excited nod turned and grinned at his friend. Thorin nodded back and was about sound the battle horn when a familiar voice caught Dwalin's and his attention, both moved close to watch the action unfold.

"What do you mean no!? Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do, I am the Prince's personal assistant, so if you make me late, pray that Aüle is feeling merciful! Now give me a damn horse" Lif's angry words rose up from the far end of the stable. As Dwalin and Thorin moved closer, they could see Lif and the Stable Master going toe to toe, angry snarls on their faces as they glared at each other. The Stable Master was a large and stocky dwarf, with a massive beard of black curls and plaited hair, he looked formidable but Lif's anger was even more formidable than his appearance. Thorin had to give it to her; the She-dwarf had balls.

"Prince Thorin wouldn't touch a traitorous cow like you even if it meant he had to bed a Balrog, now out of my way woman, I am busy!" The Stable Master screamed in her face, turning red at the beard in rage.

"Woman, is that meant to be an insult?" Lif challenged, notably placing a hand on the hilt of her sword that hung from her hip, it was long and vicious, serrated teeth on one edge glinted evilly in the afternoon sunlight.

"No but your presence here is, now get your traitorous whore cunt out of my stable yard!" the stable master grabbed a handful of Lif's leather jerkin and shoved her away hard. She stumbled but caught herself, straightening, she set her jaw defiantly, but Thorin still noticed that colour had drained from her face and her nails were digging into her hand.

Thorin itched to slit the dwarf's throat, but he kept his voice steely and calm, although it took all his self control not to jump of his horse and pummel the man into the ground. And judging by the growl that erupted from deep within Dwalin's chest, he knew his friend felt the same.

"Master of horse what exactly is the probably here?" Thorin's tone sent shards of ice into the man's bones, whirling to face Thorin, he bowed low, nearly head butting the ground before straightening to answer the question.

"This woman was demanding a horse..." He glanced back at Lif was distain and disgust before turning his gaze back to Thorin, but before the man could continue, Thorin questioned Lif.

It wasn't so much that there was a woman demanding a horse, countless She-Dwarfs were armed and mounted in the hunting party, but it just so happened that this woman had a bad reputation.

"And why would you be needing a horse Lif?" his bad mood melted away when he saw the colour blossom in her face again. In response to his question, she shrugged and adjusted her leather shoulder guards.

"Well, you did say to follow you "throughout the day," so I was merely following orders. And besides I can't let you and Dwalin have all the fun," she grinned and shot her friend a challenging look. The Stable Master gawked at her with disbelief and Thorin gaped at Dwalin who merely grinned down at Lif.

"You know her?" Thorin asked Dwalin incredulously, unable to stop his mouth hanging open.

"Sure, we was youngun's together, used to run bloody riot when we was kids," he smiled and shrugged, jabbing his thumb in Lif's direction.

Thorin would corner his friend later, but now there were more pressing matters to attend to, he turned back to the idiot Stable Master.

"Give her a horse," he commanded, not bothering to keep any friendliness in his tone. The Stable Master visibly paled and waved his hand at one of his minions who ran off to fetch a horse. But the Stable Master was less than happy, he pulled fretfully at his beard.

"But My Prince, do you really want to take her with you? I mean, you know she's a daughter of a traitor," his eyes flicked nervously over to Lif as if she was some dangerous animal, and he moved one step away.

Anger rose in Thorin again and he unleashed a torrent of words. " I would take her over you any day, little man! And be careful when you use the word "traitor", for its ignorant men like you who make her father out to be something he is not," Thorin's chest rose and fell rapidly, and his lips curled into a dangerous snarl.

A young boy arrived dragging a dappled pony behind him, and without a word Lif mounted and cantered off, eager to get some air. Embarrassment, she was used to it, it's what came of having a disgraced name but what Thorin had done, he'd defended her but not only her, her father and even more importantly, her father's memory. Mimir had given his life in the protection of the royal house of Erebor and now they were repaying the debt by giving rebuilding her father into the great man he had been. And to Lif, this was the greatest treasure of all.

Now outside, Lif sucked in fresh cool air, calming herself and trying to steady her shaking hands.

Back inside, just as the battle horn sounded and the hunting party began to filter out, Dwalin turned round in his saddle and shot the Stable Master such a glare that it froze the blood in the man's vein.

"If I ever hear you speak to anyone as rudely ever again, you have my word and solemn vow that I'll split you in two and use you as bookends. Is that understood?" If words could kill the Stable Master would have collapsed then a there. But to Dwalin's amerce satisfaction, dark wetness spilled down the other man's trousers. The Stable Master may not have collapsed but he was certainly pissing his pants.**

The hunting party stopped before they reached the apex of Dale hill by early afternoon, the sun just edging towards the western horizon as the day drew on. Thorin's black stallion snorted and nudged at Lif's mare, as Dwalin, Thorin and Lif stood at the head of the group, studying the terrain of the valley underneath, being careful not to be seen from below. But more importantly, studying the temerpory camp that the Orc's had made, sheltering from the burning sun.

The Orc pack were hiding in a small nest of trees, maybe two miles out of Dale, some smoke rose from the dense foliage but nothing to give a clear indication of the number of Orcs.

"We should outflank them, use a pincer movement to cut off their escape, " Thorin suggested, making note of the vulnerable position that the Orc's had placed themselves in with their backs to a steep rock outcrop. He was about to shout orders when Lif interrupted suddenly, taking him and Dwalin off guard.

"I disagree, that's what they want us to do, that's what their expecting from us. We should fake an attack, lure them out like the venomous snakes they are," Lif's eyes danced with anticipation and a warm blush spread over her cheeks.

If Thorin hadn't had other matters to attend to, he would have sat and stared at her all day. For once, her hair was tied tightly back, curled into a tight plait, then pinned into a bun, and all the thin green ribbons removed from her beard. Her armour was relatively simple for a dwarf, basically made up of a thick leather jerkin and green leather breaches, her arms were covered by a silver and green shoulder guards inlaid with a simple geometric design and chainmail made of silvery scales which ended in an pair of gauntlets. They appeared too big for her, but she'd stuffed wadding underneath so they didn't slip and slid. She wore no helmet.

Thorin looked reluctantly away from Lif, to Dwalin who nodded his said a little, as he contemplated her words. "I do see the logic, it can't hurt."

Thorin swallowed and ground his teeth in annoyance. "Very well, I'll go in with the first group, watch for my signal," and without another word, he indicated to maybe ten riders to follow him, before riding out down the valley.

Lif watched, heart in her mouth, as the rode out at the head of the small group. His head was held high and his long black hair flowed behind him like a cape made of obsidian fire. Lif had never seen him looking so majestic, the warrior looked as much at home as the dwarf did. Riding into the fray of battle he looked beautiful and deadly.

Lif peeked her head over the edge to check their progress, she clenched the hilt of Demon as tight as she could, tension and adrenaline making the hair on her arms stick up.

"Don't worry he'll be fine," Dwalin had fought with the Prince countless times and knew that he was flawless in battle.

"How can you be so sure?" The other riders around them shuffled with agitation, so Lif lowered her voice , leaning closer to talk to her old friend.

"Because he's got something to fight for, you don't know him like I do, I've seen the way he looks at..." Dwalin never finished his sentence, for a screeching cry pierced the air as the Orc pack charged on the little group.

The bottom dropped out of Lif's stomach at the chilling sight below them. Thirty Warg riders were advancing, but nearly double the amount to Wargs were running riderless, looking to make a quick snack out of her Prince.

She let out a savage battle cry and charged into the fight, Dwalin's horse pressing closely at her side, he too letting out a deafening roar, with of the hunting party following from their example.

Galloping as fast she her pony could, she collided with the front ranks of the Wargs, slashing at snout and stabbing at its hearts. Another pounced at her left, grabbing her ponies head in its jaws, Lif was thrown to the ground. Though the pony was now dead and headless, she avenged it, sinking her blade in the Warg's spine. It twitched once and collapsed.

With the thunder of hooves, she whirled and threw her body aside as the rest of the hunting party joined. Dwarves, Wargs and Orcs tangled together in a mad frenzy. Screams and curses clogged the air until all Lif could hear was the clash and clang of metal and armour, as she ran through the hordes, slitting throats and skewering with her deadly blade. For a second she could see Dwalin atop a stack of corpses, knocking in dozens of skulls with each swing of his war hammer.

Suddenly a piercing scream from a horse caught her attention, she skidded to a stop, stabbing an Orc in the gut while she did so, and ran towards the scream. Her heart froze in her chest, when the dust fell and she could clearly see. Thorin stallion screamed as Warg tried to get it's jaw around the horses throat, it reared wildly kicking with its front hooves at the Warg's chest. All Thorin could do was stab wildly at the Orc's attacking him on both sides, his face snarling wildly and with determination.

Before she knew what she was doing, Lif plunged her sword into the Warg's belly, it whined but fell forward onto Thorin's horse, pinning the prince underneath its dead weight. Lif heard a gasp of pain but couldn't wait around to think. Two Orc's turned on her, weapons raised, while the other two advanced on the Prince's trapped body. She whirled, parrying their blows, Lif ducked kicking the feet from under them. The Orc's squealed, one rolled away as she impaled the other through the chest.

Springing to his feet, the Orc waited and bided his time, until the She-Dwarf was on her feet. He circled, tasting the air with his long forked tongue. She pivoted to face him and snarled, sword and dagger clenched in her fist.

"Filthy Dwarf, I'll suck the marrow from your bones," The Orc hissed and charged, trying to tackle her in the middle. But Lif sprang sidewards and arching her blade upwards, enjoying the tugging weight of his skin tearing on her blades serrated teeth. The Orc sank to his knees and Lif kicked his dismembered head away with disgust.

Thorin cursed wildly, struggling with the weight pinning his chest, the two Orc's advancing leering down at him, swords drown ready to slit his throat. He tried to raise his shoulders and chest, pushing at the body of his bleeding horse. But suddenly cold bloody hands pressed hard against his collar bone, pushing him back to the ground, and brunette hair surrounded his face as Lif stared down at him.

Lif felt horror coil in her throat, swallowing a bellow of rage that rose in her throat, as the Orc's swaggered towards the Prince, malicious grins curled on their ugly faces. Adrenalin and cold hate rushed through her, as she vaulted over the dead horse, planting her feet either side of Thorin's waist. His mouth opened in a perfect "O" as he stared up at her in surprise, as he struggled to raise himself, grinding his teeth against the pain. Lif pushed him down, surprised by the warmth and softness of his skin.

The Orc's let out a bellow of rage, as Lif lowered herself in a defensive stance over Thorin. Lif let out a battle roar and arched her blade upwards, ripping the Orc's jaw bone from his face, his tongue lolling morbidly as blood spurted and he collapsed on the floor. His comrade squealed in rage, as Lif blade clashed with his, their face both perfect masks of bloodlust.

Thorin gazed up in bewilderment and fascination, this little creature timid and sincere was a true warrior, fierce and dangerous she was like a viper, deadly yet beautiful.

The Orc recoiled in agony as Lif took his hand off at the wrist and seized the opportunity to sink her blade deep into the Orc's chest. It collapsed, falling to the ground, nearly landing on Thorin's head. Thorin made a disgusted noise deep in his throat, as the dead Orc's face landed centimetres from his own, the smell of rotten flesh and bile invading his nose.

"Dwalin to the Prince!" Lif's voice ran out over the dispersing battle scene, smoke wafting over the dead and cries of the dying, drawing the ravens of Erebor to the corpses. Before Thorin knew what was happening, Dwalin blood spattered face appeared, and Lif and him pulled the horse off him. Then strong hands pulled him to his feet, wincing with pain, he turned to his friend.

"Round the injured, send a messenger to the healing wards to prepare for them," Thorin ordered, casting a measuring eye over the fallen. Lif had moved to his elbow without him knowing, her face was flushed and pink, mud and blood smeared down her cheek and neck.

"We should send a messenger to Dale, we court the majority of Warg's but its probable that some escaped," she was beaming and radiant, still feeling the cold rush of the adrenaline high. Dwalin nodded and ran off to complete the order.

"Get me a horse, I need to make my report," Thorin away from Lif as he gave the order, his words hissed as pain stabbed his ribs. She made no verbal response but a few moments later, muddy hands pressed leather reins into his fist and soon he was riding back to the mountain alone.

* * *

The night drew on and darkness fell fully but laughter and songs ran through the halls of Erebor as the celebration of the Prince's daring campaign. There was food and wine and beer and music but for all the merriment, all the cheers and frivolity, Lif couldn't keep her eyes of the young Prince.

He sat the high table, to the left of the King's chair. He smiled when spoken to, and sung when asked to but apart from that he was quiet and solemn, taking no food but merely drinking deeply from his goblet.

From the lowest place on the servants table, no one paid her much attention, apart from occasionally passing down a jug of wine and a leg of meat. So she was free to studying the Prince as he spoke low in his brother's ear, Frerin nodded with an air of surprise and turned back to the person on his left. Thorin nodded to his father and grandfather, then got up to leave, wincing a little. Lif watched as he disappeared from sight.

Something tickled in the back of Lif's mind, something that didn't feel quite right. In a rash move, she drained the dregs of her mug and followed the Prince, careful not to draw attention to her movements. His footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, but they were shuffled and irregular, as if he was swaying. He then moved out into the balcony, Lif watched from the dark shadows for a moment, studying the dwarf before her. For truly at that moment, he was just a dwarf, the stoic control fell from his face, and he leaned his body against the rail, moonlight playing with the jewels and patterns of his rode.

Thorin just had to get out of there. The heat was intense and the noise bashed and rattled in his ears like saucepan lids. He just wanted to breathe for a moment, a moment when he could just enjoy the moonlight on his skin and the air in his lungs. He raised his hands against the cold stone of the balustrade and sucking in a long breath, wincing slightly as his ribs protested. He ground his teeth and placed a hand on his side tentatively.

As he moved, he'd winced in pain, and his face had paled. Lif felt a wild protectiveness wash over her, and a fire she'd never known ignited in her chest. It took all her control, not to run forward and cradle his head against her. But she merely moved forward and spoke to him, it was her duty and job to care for his wellbeing.

"I knew something wasn't right. My Lord Thorin, you should have said something, if not to me to Dwalin or your father," Lif came out of the shadows, making Thorin jump out his skin, she's appeared from nowhere. He took a surprised step back, but before he could chastise her, she strode forward and gently felt his ribs.

Thorin froze, ground his teeth at the sudden heat that engulfed him, eventhough the night air was cool. Her head dipped against his chest, making him shiver and burn, as she listened to the sound her tapping made on his bones. His nails caused blood to spill into his fist and his beard trembled as he bit the inside of his mouth, fighting every molecule of his body not to inhale the beautiful perfume of her flesh.

Pain stabbed him as her fingers pressed against the particularly sore spot, and he let out a harsh hiss. Lif straightened and put her hands on her hips.

"My Prince, you've broken your ribs, we've got to get you to the healers before you pass out..." the moonlight danced off her hair and darkened her eyes , casting deep shadows under her eyes. His mouth and throat were dry as parchment, but he forced the words out.

"No, no healers, I can't stand them, " his words were hoarse but final. In truth he'd never been able to stand them since his mother had died. The smell of tangy herbs and the starched sheets made nausea wash over him, it was a reoccurring theme of his nightmares.

"Fine then at least let me do what I can, let me bind them or... something. It is my job, Sire, and you were the one that hired me," her eyes danced in determination and stubbornness. Thorin swallowed a lump at formed in throat as he looked down at her.

"I knew I'd regret taking you on," he grumbled pushing away from the barrier, his body was heavy with pain but also with beer. His head swam and he swayed precariously, Lif caught him, taking some of his weight, she hooked her fingers around his belt loop and tucked his arm over her shoulders.

Thorin tensed and his jaw clamped shut, as searing pain shot to his groin and swollen shaft throbbed with need. Her lush curves pressed into him and her breasts rubbed against him as the stumbled through the secret passageway and into his room.

Lif carefully placed him on the bed, leaving but returning a short time later with some healing supplies. She returned a short time after, bandages and ointments carried in the crook of her arm, placing them on his bedside table, she turned back to Thorin.

His movements were slow and deliberate, as he peeled away each layer of his clothing, grunting a little as he twister his body to remove his blue jerkin. Underneath he wore a simple black shirt, that was partly undone to reveal the top of his hard biceps and the bounty of black hair that dappled his chest underneath.

Lif turned back to the table, letting out a long, shaky breath. Heat ravaged her, blood ran to her skin and coiling need burned within her loins. _Don't be unprofessional-_she steadied herself, before picking up some ointment and turning to the Prince.

Standing before him, she tugged at the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, careful not to tug any of his dark braids. Purple bruises blossomed against his tanned skin, causing Lif to wince at the thought of his silent pain. She sunk her fingers deep into the cool ointment and began to smooth it over his skin.

Thorin sat still as a statue, suppressing the chills that this women's touch sent through him. He gasped suddenly, as her thumb lightly scraped across his hard nipple, the lightness of her touch was both agony and bliss.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you My Lord?" she pulled her hands away and stared at his face with worry.

"No, its fine , just hurry up i am tired," his spoke his growled his words through his teeth, while his hands dug into the sheets of his bed. Lif turned back to the table, returning to Thorin with bandages in her hand.

Pain splintered through him as she knelt between his legs, to get a better vantage to wrap his ribs. Her chest brushed against his thighs, teasing chills from his skin, while her cool hands moved danced across the sensitive skin of his ribs.

"Deep breathe," she voice was thick like syrup, and her face was flushed to as she ordered him. Thorin did as he was told, growling as Lif tugged tightly at the bandages one last time. Bracing herself on his knees, she got to her feet, little wispy hairs brushing against his chest as she did so.

She reached back to the dresser, and held a small crystal vile filled with purple liquid, in front of his eyes. "For the pain, it'll put you in a deep sleep while your body heals," she smiled but her face froze as she looked down at Thorin. A sudden rage ran through him like a wild animal in frenzy. He caught her wrist and pulled it under his gaze. Lif gasped in pain but said nothing.

"What in the name of Malal is that?" all his control had evaporated, as his eyes settled on the long gash across her palm.

"It's only a scratch, it didn't even bleed that much," surprised by the Prince's sudden emotion. But what happened next ripped the air from her very lungs. Thorin dipped his head suddenly and nuzzled at her palm with impossible gentleness, laying a kiss against the puckered skin. Lif froze at the sensation and moaned deep at his touch, stepping forward to cup his soft cheek in her hand, stoking his dark beard gently with her thumb.

The heat and the sweet smell of almonds were too much to bear, all he wanted to do was pull her against him and press her body into to the soft mattress. But he didn't. He pulled her hand away, with more force than he meant to and pushed it back to her side. Confusion and pain passed across Lif's face but he couldn't bear to look at her.

"That will be all, please leave," his voice was cold and commanding, and as Lif watched the caring and passionate dwarf turned to stone, cold and unfeeling. She placed the sleeping draft on his pillow, before moiving to the door, when suddenly a hushed voice called behind her.

"Could you please send a message to my brother that I wish to speak with him and Lif, thank you for risking your life today, you went above the care of duty," His words were simple but they moved her soul. Inclining her head slightly, she pushed the door open and left.

* * *

He sat in darkness. Both from lack of light, and the complete and utter ruin if his soul. He'd drink himself into a stupor if it would have helped, he'd stay awake until he collapsed from exhaustion but Thorin knew it was no use. The dice had been thrown, events were now in motion that could not be unwritten.

Suddenly the door was thrown open, violently casting harsh light into the room, bright enough that Thorin had to physically shield his eyes. Spots of light blinked before him as he turned to look up at the figure standing, silhouetted in the doorway.

"You wanted to see me, Prince Thorin?" her voice washed over him like cool spring water, dousing out a savage flame. He bit the inside of his mouth until he could taste metallic blood, and he swallowed every instinct in his body that told him to hold her close and never let her go.

"Yes, please come in," He voice was too controlled, too sterile, but it was the only sound he could make. If he could just look down on her face, just one last time then, maybe, he'd be content to let her go forever.

Lif walked in silently, her movements careful and full of trepidation. She lit a candle, its flame trembled as her hands shook slightly.

Thorin could see her face, pale and grim with worry as it searched his features, a stray wisp of dark hair fell across her brow and she brushed it away quickly. Pain welled in Thorin's chest as his eyes rested on her raised wrist, it was layered with bruises, purple and yellow flourished over the delicate skin and bones. Thorin looked away quickly.

Lif stopped a few feet in front of him, candle held in front of her, casting long shadows which danced of the walls. Thorin turned his body away from her, so that he couldn't see her face, or the emotions his harsh words were going to cause.

"Lif, as of now, you are relieved of your duties in this house," the stern, cold words came out robotically, no real meaning attached to them, for all Thorin really cared they could have been a foreign language but he made himself speak anyway. From the right, he heard a small harsh intake of breath, and a rustle of fabric, as Lif took a little step backward.

"I have made arrangements for you to go with my brother's entourage to the Iron Hills, is that understood?" his voice was harsh and severe, he studied the fire blankly, needing something to focus his attention on: other than the warm heat and smell crushed almonds, that sinfully surrounded the She-Dwarf.

After a silence that seemed to stretch for aeons, Lif spoke, her voice hushed as if she'd been sprinting. "If have displeased you, I am truly sorry," she paused for a moment to swallow a large painful lump that had formed in her throat. "You have shown me nothing but kindness and I have repaid your generosity with shame." To her horror she found her eyes welling up with fat tears, which spilled down cheeks, before see wiped them away flustered and impatient.

Thorin felt like a boulder was pressing down on his chest, painful and unmovable, it was a dead weight that was breaking his heart. He turned his body fully away and walked to the far side of the room. Just far enough that he could no longer hear the shaky breathes that escaped unknowingly from Lif's lips. He would have given away all the gold he owned to be anywhere else right now. He would have preferred any torture compared with pain his words had caused her.

"No, there is no shame, I just think it's for the best," his nails bit into his palm as he tried to squeeze away the pain, though it did little apart from making him bleed. Suddenly the actual meaning of his words his hit him, like one man trying to hold back the tide, it was all too much. "Please just... Just close the door behind you as you go and take the candle with you."

His tone was final, unquestionably, a prince's word is lore and Lif carried it out. Curtseying for the very last time, she withdrew to the door. With her hand poised on the handle, she turned back to study the figure hunched in the dark. His head was bowed and his face hidden behind a curtain of hair, but Lif could see every muscle in his back was coiled tight like a spring and his spine brittle enough to snap. His displeasure and revulsion towards her had been apparent, he had shown her kindness when she needed most, and in return she had angered him.

Letting out a long sigh, Lif shut the door with a soft thud, leaving the Prince alone in the darkness he longed for.

* * *

Oki so do let me know what you think, i've never been any good at writing lovey dovey bits, so this is knew for me.

To all those people who do take the time to comment, thankyou. I rewards wit PM'S, so inboxes at the ready- Badpenny


	3. The Embrace

**This has been burning a whole in my doc Manager so here you go if you can handle it. Should answer any and all questions that arose from previous chapter. **

* * *

**WARNING; NOT FOR THOSE WITH A NERVOUS DISPOSITION -BADPENNY**

Sands of time 3: The Embrace

Thorin shifted on the bed, listening to the soft rustle of the bed sheets under him, and the whistle of the raging wind against the window of his balcony, as he tried to ignore the growing pain in his chest.

The air still held the scent of her subtle perfume, crushed almonds and clean linen, it was sinful: like disease and its cure in one, a blissful agony. Her had to let her go, for her own good, for her own wellbeing: she did not realise what his world would make her into, he had been moulded by his station and rank, made cold and hostile, while she was soft and warm: in his world she would be torn apart, made into something she wasn't. The women he desired wasn't the Aristocratic or Socialite, she was honest, sincere and hardworking. She was as the gods had intended, untainted by intrigue or gold.

_She_ was what he wanted: _she_ was what he….loved.

He laid his head back on his pillow, wincing slightly as his ribs protested. Something slid and gently tapped against his temple, he propped himself up on his elbows, as his eyes gazed down on the small crystal vile that was laid on his pillow.

_"For the pain, it'll put you in a deep sleep while your body heals,"_ He could hear her light words echo in the deep reaches of his mind. He laughed darkly, as he drained the vile; the bitter irony was not lost on him.

Thorin was a large dwarf, even as a boy he had been big for his age, so he didn't expect the drugs to have much effect. It didn't put him to sleep, though it did help him become numb and painless, and at that moment that is what he needed.

He sat on his bed and waited, waited for the inevitable, waited for his cure.

Suddenly there was a clatter in the hall way outside and the door abruptly fell open, Frerin falling heavily against the door frame and using door handle to pull himself to his feet, swaying heavily as did so. Thorin let out an irritated growl and drew himself to the edge of the bed, biting back the pain as he did so.

"You are drunk!" he snapped at his younger brother, who swaggered into the room and dramatically shut the door behind him, with a wild flourish of his arm.

"Drunk yes! But that is another question entirely," Frerin retorted, leaning his back against the door for stability, as his brilliant blue eyes twinkling. He had always been a handsome dwarf, even when they were children; women had fawned over his looks. His dusty blonde locks shined like burnished gold and the sun kissed his skin like a bronze statue, his beard and moustache stylishly pointed and debonair. The women loved him and he loved them. He swaggered over and checked his hair in the mirror above Thorin's water basin.

"Women, men, mead… life: take your pick brother; I am intoxicated by all," he laughed at himself, splashing cool water from the basin onto the back of his neck, winking at Thorin's with his reflection in the mirror. But Frerin noticed the sombre tension that surrounded his brother, swinging round to face him, he made note of the slump of his shoulders and his swaying dizziness.

"Never mind me, what is the matter with you," he pointed his finger and peered down the end of it, a jeering smirk curling his pointed moustache, showing his perfectly white teeth.

"I need your help brother," Thorin's voice was weak, his face tilted down studying the floor, and his body beginning to sway more than Frerin's was. Stumbling and hiccupping slightly, Frerin moved forward and placed his hands on the bed, either side of his older brother.

"You haven't asked me for help since you lost that drinking game with Dwalin and ended up being sick out the window," Frerin jeered, remembering how the Prince to be had nearly collapsed in his arms and then vomited on his boots. Thorin looked up suddenly, his eyes quivering with an intensity that Frerin had never seen.

"I just don't know what to do, it's just so difficult, and "Thorin dragged hands through his shiny black hair and closed his eyes, trying to shake off the fogginess of his mind. Frerin waited, amused by his brother's discomfort, and intrigued at that same time.

"She's just so…" Thorin began his voice whispered and desperate.

"A woman! Ha! Don't tell me she's made a man out of you Thorin, though I've got to say it's about bloody time. Some of the boys had bets that your crumpet was buttered on the other side, if you know what I mean," Frerin leaped from the bed and slapped his brother's arm, his body shaking as he howled with mirth. When his laughter subsided, he turned and studied his brother's sad face.

"Don't tell me it's the woman who went toe to toe with Ranaloth, the one you shouted at?" The Master of horse was a good friend and a good drinking partner of Frerin's, he had stormed and raged in the mead hall; telling all who would listen about how "an upstart Bitch had made him look like a fool in front of the Prince."

"You know?" Thorin tried to get to his feet but his head was beginning to pound and throb, his body felt like it was made of lead, dull and heavily, he struggled to his feet.

"Cause I know! I hear and see all Thorin, even Father knows for Aüle sake. I know he was planning to bring it up at breakfast," Frerin crossed his arms over his chest and smirked down at his brother, enjoying how Thorin gave up the struggle to get to his feet and slouched back down, his head in his hands.

"You can't go around screaming at people to save the feelings of some traitor's bitch," Thorin visibly flinched at Frerin's harsh words and snapped his head up to glower at his younger brother.

"But that's the point, it's not just her feelings, she's…." Thorin let out an angry snarl, frustrated at his brother's callousness, frustrated that he didn't know the right words to say. Frerin let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his golden locks and placing his hands on his hips.

"So this female's got your cock in a knot," he smirked, cocking an insolent eyebrow and twisting the pointed end of his moustache with his thumb and forefinger. Thorin moved before he could even react, clubbing him over the back of the head with his massive paw like hand.

"Don't use bad language!" Thorin chastised, growling a little through his teeth.

"Thorin!" Frerin whined, grimacing in pain and rubbing the back of his head, then turning back to his brother who was leaning against his bedside table.

"Do you want my help or not?" Frerin's tone was final, shooting Thorin a pointed look. His brother turned to him, hope glimmering in his eyes.

"What do you intend to do?" Thorin's voice was husky and deep, his mind growing ever foggier with the drugs. Frerin grinned broadly for a moment, and then sat on the bed, his fingers steepled under his chin.

"Does she know of your infatuation?" Frerin's voice was clipped and business like as he grilled Thorin.

"No, at least I don't think so..." She was bright and cheery, good natured to all she came across, and fierce in battle. But during those few seconds where Thorin's self control had crumbled, she had been...well passionate and loving. Then again she was loyal and respectful; maybe she reciprocated his feelings out of duty, but then again maybe not.

"Well, the course of action is quite simple!" Frerin exclaimed with glee, clapping his hands together.

"Really do tell," Thorin replied dryly, rolling his eyes, and dragging his hand through his hair. Frerin grinned cockily, arching a delicate eyebrow and pointing a mocking finger in Thorin's direction.

"You need time to get her out of your system, you see her day in day out, Of course she is on your mind: from what Ranaloth said she is rather striking-" Frerin paused as Thorin growled at him "-you need time to recover."

"I will not have her thrown out on into the wilderness!" Thorin snapped eyes bright and feverish, Frerin tutted and continued speaking.

"That is not what I am suggesting at all. I merely wish to point out that she works for the house of Durin, and I am a Durin, and where am I journeying to in three days time?" Frerin's voice was thick with sarcasm as he waited for Thorin to respond. Frerin's meaning dawned on Thorin like a wave hitting a beach.

"The Iron Hills." Whispered words escaped his mouth; they were both his salvation and his curse.

His cousin Dain was visiting with his father in three days time, and in return Frerin was visiting their tribe. It was a mark of respect to their kin, which was celebrated every few years. However tensions had rose in later years, over trade routes and taxes, Thorin knew that his grandfather feared it could lead to a family feud if the situation did not resolve itself.

"Yes, indeed the Iron Hills, I return in four months, by which time you will have moved on to some more suitable wench," standing up from the bed, Frerin moved to stand in front of Thorin and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, smiling meekly as he did so.

"Don't hurt her, promise me. She means more to me then you know Frerin," Thorin met his younger brother's, powerful azure clashing with meek sky blue, his words were whispered but Frerin knew they hid a cold and terrible anger if challenged.

"Brother, you are too noble by far," Frerin pulled back his hand and retreated to the door, pulling it open, making ready to leave.

"And you are not noble enough," Thorin called after him, lightly chastising, turning away to fall into bed, grateful that this nightmare of a day was finally over. Frerin smiled and closed the door shut, letting out a long sigh, pressing his back against the wood.

"Indeed, not noble at all," his voice half a whisper: a gleeful smile spreading over his lips at the thought of the games to come. **

* * *

Thorin was too lost in thought to eat, meat and potatoes piled high on his plate but he couldn't stomach them, he merely drank deeply from his goblet, the pain still fresh in his chest.

_"Please just... Just close the door behind you as you go and take the candle with you_." He couldn't believe the words he had said, how could he be so callous, so cold. The sterile nature of his words had shocked him, it was only later when he was alone sat in the dark that he realised who he sounded like: his father.

But it was for the best, he told himself again and again, the tears he had caused would push away any affection she had for him. It was for the best.

"Thorin Boy! Are you listening?" his head snapped up to see his father looking at him, a frown poised harshly on his wrinkled brow.

"Yes, my apologies, It won't happen again," he inclined his head to his father in apology. Thrain arched his grey eyebrow and cleared his throat, continuing his speech, making sure Thorin was listening closely.

"Well, I want both of you on your best behaviour when the Iron Hill Clans arrive, especially you!" he jabbed a finger in Thorin's direction. Frerin beamed; pleasantly surprised it wasn't him being told off.

"No more out bursts either, do hear me Boy! No matter how pretty she is," Thrain raised a hand to silence him as Thorin tried to defend himself.

"No buts! From now on you only show Karis attention, do you understand me?" Oh Thorin understood perfectly, Karis was the only female of marrying age in the entire Iron Clan aristocracy, she was fat and pompous and Thorin hated her with a passion. Thorin glanced at Frerin who gave him a sympathetic shrug, he turned back to his food, poking it viciously, wishing the steak was Karis.

Thrain watched his oldest son out of the corner of his eye, he would Damn do as he was told, he'd had an arranged marriage and he'd complained not once!

"I would hate to see what would happen if you didn't Thorin, my actions would be"- he paused, giving his sons piercing stares over his goblet- "regrettable." He let the word hang in the air and watched with silent glee as the blood drained from Thorin's face. **

* * *

That evening Lif set about her new work, taking a tempory position as a server for Frerin before they set off for the Iron Hill the day after next.

With her back towards the centre of the crowded room, she once again filled the pitcher with wine and turned back to refill the party's glasses.

"And then he said "Come, I can catch the stag myself!" and with that his horse bucked and he landed on his fat arse!" Frerin drunken words cause raucous laughter from his guests, causing them to gasp and beckon her to fill their goblets once again. She didn't recognise any of the guests there, they appeared to be some musicians who tinkered with instruments between glasses, some rich merchant's sons, she knew a politician or two; but what shocked her most was the women there, they lounged about in bright scant silk dresses with golden bells and jewels woven in their hair and around the bodies, whilst reclining indulgently on fat feather sofas and cushions. She didn't look a bit like them.

Lif felt very out of place. She would have fled if she hadn't of been working, they were too noisy, to decadent and too pompous for her liking. Frerin was not at all like his brother, in fact they were polar opposites, where Thorin was quietly controlled and reserved, Frerin was loud and demanding.

Lif felt something twang in her chest when she thought about the Prince, but didn't have time to dwell on it, as she was called over yet again to refill glasses.

"Here take this filly for example," said a man loudly, slapping a women on the thigh, causing her to giggle wildly, "she's been broken in, tamed, where as this one is still a wild little thing." The man grabbed Lif by the waist, and pulled her onto his lap, causing her to gasp in surprise, and sending the pitcher spilling out over the floor. Lif was too stunned to react, her mouth a perfect "O" shape as she gaped at him.

"My my Frerin where have you been hiding this one," the man brushed a dark lock of hair of her exposed collar bone and tried to pull her closer towards him. Suddenly something clicked and Lif found her words, fighting hard to keep the violent anger out of her tone

"Unhand me, or I will not be responsible for my actions," she braced her palms against his chest and glared coldly at him. But the man didn't notice the fiery anger in her voice and merely laughed, sliding his hand up her thigh, ruffling the fabric of her dress.

"Oh, how I love an animal with spirit," he purred, trying to dip his head into the crook of her neck, but froze as Frerin's voice boomed over the room.

"That is enough Niro!" Frerin's voice was a deep boom, every bit as powerful and dominant as Thorin's was, but he sat, draped over a chair, one leg swinging over the arm, completely relaxed. Everyone was still, Lif took the opportunity pull out of the Niro's grasp and to her feet, then too overwhelmed with anger, brought her knuckles down hard across his cheek.

The whole room reacted. Complete uproar and chaos erupted, Niro sprang to his feet and advanced on her, the women in the party tried to hold him back, while some of the men grabbed Lif by the arms, holding her in place. Frerin was on his feet in seconds, rushing forward to stand in between the two.

"Everyone out now!" his voice boomed again, a mad glint now in his eye, there was another silence and then the shuffling of feet. Frerin leant forward and whispered in his friends ear, Niro smiled evilly and winked at her as he left, shutting the door behind him.

If Lif had been uncomfortable in a room full of crowded people, she sure as hell was even more uncomfortable with just the one. The dead silence weighed on her shoulders like a boulder; she cleared her throat and began to speak before she even knew what she was really saying.

"You know you really did not have to do that My Lord, I could have handled him perfectly well on my own, I was ... just startled that was all," she prattled on until Frerin's maniac laughter filled the room to the rafters.

"Ha! Did you see their stupid faces! Damn Aüle that was priceless," he wiped a tear away from his eye and pressed a goblet of wine into her hands: She gawked at him.

"My Lord?" she asked, completely and utterly bewildered by his actions.

"Well well Thorin was right, you do cause trouble wherever you go, I have to hand it to him, he sure does pick em'" Frerin chuckled, sitting down and reclining into a soft arm chair, his eyes roamed up and down her body making her inwardly shiver: but at the first mention of Thorin's name she had frozen, a painful lump forming in her throat.

"That scene you just caused was really...well it was artfully done, I applaud you. It takes a lot of guts to pick a fight with the Captain of the Royal Guard but you certainly managed it," the bottom fell out of Lif's gut as Frerin carried on talking.

"I mean you are competent, don't misunderstand me but at the moment Thorin needs a friend who is...dependable and respectable. And I mean after your little outburst at the stables, you're neither, are you?" he smirked at her, his clear blue eyes dancing with firelight. Pain flooded her body; tears would have spilled from her cheeks if white hot anger wasn't ravaging her. Frerin sensed her anger as a dark and deadly aura surrounded her; he glanced into his goblet and grinned to himself.

"See the thing is Liffy, he is just too nice!" He exclaimed, batting the air in a camp gesture. "It's always been a flaw of his, everyone wants to be the Prince's friend and he just cannot say no. Even me when he asked me to take you off his hands, what could I do but only say yes. You're no good to me; a woman with a short temper, no money and a disgraced family name- well it's no wonder Thorin wanted to hide you away."

He let his words hang in the air for a long time, the only noise was the crackling of the fire, and the sloshing of wine in Frerin goblet as he drained it, then stood, pushing his empty glass into her hand. He turned back at the open door, her back to him, from the spot she had not moved from.

"I am retiring for the night, you are excused," and with the Frerin withdrew, leaving the door open, trying to keep the violent laughter silent as he retreated into his rooms.

Lif trembled. Blood seemed to run cold in her veins and her eyes darkened, she felt the glasses crack and shatter in her hands as they turned into fists, red drops of wine splattering her face as the liquid exploded out of the goblets. But she didn't care, waves of fury lapped against her until she couldn't breathe, couldn't see. Adrenaline clouded her mind, she was barely conscious of the fact she was marching, on the war path.

Dwarves looked on and darting out of her way as she stalked down the hallways, people recoiling under her frenzied gaze. And before she knew it, Lif found herself making her way up the stairs of Durin's House, taking the steps two at a time, and striding into the private entrance hall.

Thorin's bedroom door was open and empty, so she made for the library, throwing the doors open with all her might, sending books tumberling off the shelves. She stood in the doorway, silhouetted, looking into the room. Thorin was sat in an armchair in front of the fire, his legs propped up on a stool, leather bound book lying open on his lap: his had snapped in her direction and he leaped to his feet. He opened his mouth to speak but Lif was already advancing on him.

Before any words could form, she fist snapped from her side, punching him hard on the jaw. Thorin stumbled back, disbelief and confusion in his eyes as he scanned hurriedly over her face, searching for answers. But Lif unleashed her anger, like the dogs from hell, her rage and pain and revulsion swept out her mouth. Dragging the front of his tunic, bunching the fabric into her bleeding fists, she hauled him down so she stared him dead in the eye.

"You may be my king and I respect you no matter what. But that's actually just a title; you are just a dwarf like the rest of us! You have no real power over me Thorin Son of Thrain, and besides I do as I damn well please and I will speak until I am done and not a moment longer." She snarled through clenched teeth, Thorin recoiled slightly, opening his mouth to speak but then thought better of it. Now she'd started, Lif didn't plan on stopping until all the pain and all the anger had left her body. She was going to make him understand how hurt she really was, even if she had to beat it into him.

"You brought me into this house, even though you knew I was from a disgraced family. So don't you dare try and hide me away like some black sheep. This was the one time since my father's death that I felt like I had a purpose," a fist sized lump formed in her throat but she refused to cry, no now, not ever, not in front of Thorin. The Prince was frowning, with anxious eyes searching her face, but she refused to retreat.

"If you didn't want to be my friend just tell me so, instead of pawning me off on that arrogant brother with his lecherous grabby friends- at least **_he_** tells it like it is. You know I have never felt ashamed of myself, all my life, I was proud to be who I was, but now I am ashamed. Ashamed and disgusted that I ever thought the future king could look past the name and the label and judge a person for who they are and not who there suppose to be!" She paused, panting slightly, feeling a little light headed.

Thorin couldn't think, wild untamed absolute panic ran through him, he had caused this, this pain. He'd never seen fire like it. His guilt was overwhelming.

"Lif please, just listen..." Thorin tried to find his voice to calm her, reaching out his hands to her shoulders, but she recoiled from his touch.

"No! I am far too angry to listen to your words. If you weren't the future king I would challenge you to a duel, then by Aüle, you would see how truly angry I am," she paused again collecting her words, she took another step back and sucked in a steady breath. Lif looked at her feet than back up to Thorin, this time her voice was cold and flinty as if made from ice.

"The Council couldn't send me away from Erebor, my father's broken body wouldn't either, not even years of being shunned by my peers could. But one word from you and I am blown away like dust in the wind." Lif seemed to sag as if a weight had left her body, exhaustion hit her as the adrenalin left her system, and her face was now a death mask of paleness.

Thorin watched her silent as the grave, his chest seized as if it was made of lead. But as Lif turned to go, chemicals ran through his body like lighting.

"NO! You cannot leave," he found his voice, booming and commanding; Lif felt chills run up her spine. She turned and faced the Prince, a metre apart, without her Furor his dominant presence was frightening. Her eyes drifted up to the bruise forming on his jaw before answering.

"And why would I stay?" her voice was low now, emotionless. Thorin stepped forward suddenly, closing the gap between them, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body and clamping a paw like hand over her mouth. She started to struggle, pushing against his chest and trying to wriggle but he held her still.

"Now it is my turn to speak. You have to understand, I will make you understand: everything." He held her against him, her lush curves pressing against his chest and her hot breath teasing the skin on his neck.

Even if she hated him forever, she must understand why he had sent her away. His voice was a dangerous growl, husky and deep, he was barely able to keep the words flowing coherently.

"I can't lose you, but I can't have you. Do you understand?" Thorin watched as Lif frowned in confusion, he growled with frustration before continuing.

"Don't you see? To be with you, so near yet so far is agony, yet I crave the pain. The moment I saw your bravery and fiery spirit, I knew I was doomed. To me you're a warrior and a protector, just what as dwarf should be, your family is just a name, it doesn't make up who you are," his mouth was dry and he fumbled for the words, ignoring the whites of Lif's eyes as she stared up at him, unbelieving the words she was hearing.

"If my family knew they would kill you, without a second thought. You are a threat to my ability to marry. You just stumbled in with your books and your wispy hair, not caring what you put me through, " he smiled and released her mouth, moving his hand up to brush away a dark lock of fly away hair, he'd wanted to do that since the moment he saw her, and it felt heavenly. Crushed almonds engulfed his senses, making his mind foggy. Lif shivered at his touch and Thorin nearly groaned at the feel of her moving against him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he released her waist and stepped away, instantly missing the warmth of her lush body.

Lif stumbled a little realizing her legs had given way at some point. She caught the edge of the sofa and held herself still for a moment, letting his words swim around her mind until she could understand there meaning.

"Why would I be a threat to your marrying?" she heard herself say the words without her knowing it. Thorin smiled and glanced down at the floor; he dragged a hand through his dark hair and gave her a tired smile, shrugging a little.

"Don't you see, how could I be with someone else. If I could, I'd marry you in a heartbeat," he tilted his head a little, catching her eyes and drawing her into his brilliant gaze: "hate me if you wish, but I acted in your best interest. I will send you an armed escort to travel with for your safe keeping," he nodded and turned away, making for the door, his jaw clenched and his back stiff.

"My Prince!" Lif called suddenly just as he reached for the door handle, he turned slowly to look back at her.

"You cannot be saying what I think you are saying, I must have misunderstood, It would be stupid to even think that you..."the words died in her throat, she moved carefully, studying the sombre face of the dwarf in front of her. Lif's breath caught in her throat as Thorin raised a callous hand to cup her cheek, drawing his thumb sinfully slowing over her bottom lip. Then bent his head low to whisper in her ear, his dark beard teasing the sensitive of her earlobe: sending shivers over her skin.

"Men lananubkhs menu," his husky words floored her, the sacred language of Khuzdul couldn't be lied in, in Khuzdul a person can only speak the absolute truth. _I love you_. His simple words turned her world upside down.

Thorin smiled a little as a gasp escaped her lips; she reached up and gently touched one of his dark braids.

"Thorin I... I'm sorry I shouted at you," she couldn't find any words to match his, but he smiled and pressed his forehead against hers, warmth and the maple scent surrounding her. She moaned as he teasingly brushed his lips across her, tingling the sensitive skin.

He waited a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her warm body against him, he claimed her lips, just as he should have done the first day he fell in love with her. Thorin groaned at the sweet taste, her body pressed into him so that he couldn't think: he was lost in her love and her warmth. He held her too tight and wanted hold her forever. She sighed deeply, drawing him in deeper, clinging to him like a raft in a storm.

Distant fire light danced off their bodies as they embraced each other for the very first time as Soulmates.


	4. A Desire

A desire too far

**_ERG;JEIGRGEOFWGIofkrfieorgh.!... " BADPENNY curling up into a ball and rocking herself to sleep," _**

_Distant fire light danced off their bodies as they embraced each other for the very first time as Soulmates. _

He was intoxicating. Like hot cider on a cold day, he made her warm and dizzy all in the same second, he made her toes curl and her head spin, the earth swayed under her feet and the room titled.

Thorin pulled back suddenly, Lif gasped and realised that she hadn't breathed for some minutes, to entranced by his mouth to think of anything else but him. His heat left her; it was like being doused with ice, she needed him, his power, and his presence: Thorin smiled as she reached for him, her eyes shining with desperation.

His cheeks had a dark flush as he studied her face, pushing a dark lock of hair out of her eyes. "Lif," pressing his lips against her forehead, he whispered with quiet desperation; every instinct yelling at him to turn back, to flee from her embrace, but his body would not obey.

"Yes Thorin," Lif replied hoarsely, she was barely able to breathe, her heart raced like wild horses across the sky. He pulled back and studied her face, his eyes sparkling with a frightening blue intensity, his large calloused hands rising to cup her face, holding her firmly under his unwavering gaze.

"Lif, listen, I just need you to listen for a moment - " he began, his voice quivering slightly as he spoke.

"Thorin what's...?" Lif interrupted in confusion, anxiety curling in her chest. Thorin pressed his thumb over her lips, stopping her speech.

"I want you to want me; not because it is your duty to flatter me or your duty to your Prince or Lord, not even as a dwarf but as a man wants a women," his voice was low and earnest, but strong and filled with a determination at that could have flattened mountains. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he continued to speak. "Let me show you how much I desire you and how much I love you with every fibre of my soul."

Lif was bowled over by his words. No one had ever spoken like that, he was humble, dropping his guarded emotions that he hid behind, letting her see the real dwarf under the Prince's mask. He had let her into his inner most trust, now she must do the same. She licked her lips, trying to find the right words to express herself.

"I didn't save your life out of duty or honour nor did your bidding just because you are my prince. After all, that is just a title really, I did it because I love you, ya' Big Idiot," they weren't eloquent or beautiful like his were, but her words were true and simple, and sometimes the simplest things are the most beautiful of all.

Thorin growled low and husky at her words, wild flames of passion consuming his restraint as he claimed her lips once again, pressing his body against her until he could feel every last inch of her curves against him.

Lif's hands tangled in his hair, knitting her fist into his dark wavy locks as she pulled him harder against her lips. Shivers ran up her spine and her toes curled, every inch of her body crying out for his touch.

So masculine, so powerful, it was as if Aüle herself had blessed him with the grace and power of a timber wolf stalking its prey. He was the predator and she was ready to be devoured.

Heat scorched the Princes body as her hands ran up and down his arms and embracing the bunching tension of his muscles. He moaned deep and desperately as her clever fingers began to unlace the front of his tunic, her nails biting a little against the sensitive flesh of his collar bone.

All the control had fled him, it was as if his body was being consumed by fire, by passion, by hunger to embrace her and know every inch of her. His lips danced along her jaw, nibbling the sensitive flesh, before nuzzling the into the crook of her neck: inhaling her exquisite perfume that bewitched him, he felt her tense and her limbs quiver before she threw her head back and moaned his name, her voice thick with pleasure.

He pulled back and regarded her face; it was flushed pink like it had been in battle, her lips were wet and parted slightly and her eyes sparkled with an intensity that challenged the very stars.

Lif reached for his belt: lust and anticipation building up until she felt it would crash over her. But Thorin caught her hands and held them, Lif winced as little as her bruised wrist smarted, his eyes down cast, he took a reluctant step away from her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to rush..." her mind was awash with chemicals and adrenaline, she didn't even know what words were coming out of her mouth, she flushed scarlet with embarrassment.

He turned her bruised wrist over in his hand and studied the cut on her palm: it was red but was beginning to heal. Then met her eyes, every emotion laid bare on his face; his brow crinkled slightly but his features still and tranquil, his warm blue eyes melting away all her doubts- she felt like they welcoming her home.

"I want to savour this," Thorin whispered gently, before pressing his lips to her brow and lacing his fingers with hers. Picking up a nearby candle stick, he led her out the room, closing the library door behind them, and they made their way across the hallway and into his bedroom. Once over the threshold, Thorin released her hand and moved forward to place the candle on the bedside table, in front of his mirror: casting long shadows across the large room.

There was no fire lit in the hearth but it didn't matter, heat radiated from Thorin's skin like a furnace. Lif shuddered at the thought of running her hands over the glorious bounty of tanned flesh, tasting it, smelling the smoky maple and sweet cider- it was enough to make her beg for mercy. But none came.

Thorin stood watching her. His gemlike eyes running up and down her lush body, he stood by the side of the bed and slowly, sinfully, unlaced his belt letting it fall to the floor. Lif fell back against the closed wooden door; her knees buckling slightly as he pulled his blue tunic over his head, exposing the rippling muscles and arms underneath.

Every inch of his torso was strong, tight and powerful, dark chest hair gleaming in the candle light as he advanced on her. He pressed his lower body against hers, so that she could feel his hardened manhood against her stomach. His lips were centimetres from her, his breath blowing wispy hair about her face. She licked her lips and swallowed as the Prince leaned tentatively close, running his tongue over the outer shell of her ear as he locked the door behind her.

"I want to take my time loving you," his deep voice whispered in her ear, sending shivers squirming in her belly and loins, throwing her over the edge.

She threw herself forward, kissing him forcefully and deeply, while her hands roamed over his chiselled chest and back. His body felt better than it looked. Nothing could compare to the heat of his skin; the coarse bounty of hairs covering his biceps or how he moaned her name against her lips.

Her legs gave way as a wave of pleasure hit her, but Thorin caught her and lifting her into his arms, gripping her thighs as with his strong fingers. They moaned in unison as Lif pressed her core against his hardness, using the rise and fall of their kiss to give rhythm to her grinding[N1] . Thorin's knees caught on the side of the bed and both laughed as they tumbled down onto the mattress.

Lif nibbled at Thorin's collar bone but shuddered as he rubbed himself shamelessly against her, she'd never hated being clothed so much in her life. She sat up and began unlacing her bodice, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with her knot.

"Here, let me." Thorin whispered as he kissed her knuckles and moved them away from the string. He made short work of it and watched, transfixed as Lif tugged her dress over her head, exposing her nakedness for the first time. She was pale and strong; her breasts round mountain peaks, her nipples flushed pink like her lips. Thorin had imaged her like this many times, but he had never done her the justice she deserved.

His hands had a mind of their own as they slid up her sides, cupping her shoulder blades and her hip in his hands, and drawing her into her chest. He just needed to feel her skin against his, the coolness of her touch, the sensation of her naked body pressing against his.

She sat up suddenly and gazed down at him, lust burning in her eyes. "My love, we have all the time in the world," she stated as she began to comb her fingers through his hair.

Thorin watched entranced as she methodically unravelled his braids, being careful to set all his clasps aside, so that he could re-braid his hair when they were done. Lif leaned forward a little to study intricate silver clasp held plait behind his ear. But shuddered violently when Thorin took the opportunity to take her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around her hardened peak: and lowered his hand, seeking the hot wetness of her thighs.

Lif threw pack her head in pleasure, knotting her hands into Thorin's hair and cradled his head, as his hand parted her sex and sank deep within her. She could barely move, barely think, as he sent another wave of pleasure through her body with the unrelenting movement of his skilful fingers pushing and harder. Tension built and fire raged within her, desperate for release, Lif placed her hand onto of Thorin's fingers and guided his rhythm.

She could feel his own eagerness, pressing against the leather of his breeches. It took every ounce of will power she had but she pulled away from his touch and sank back to the floor, kneeling between his knees. He sat up with confusion and watched in shocked awe as she unlaced his boots and the slid her hands seductively up his calves and then his thighs. Lif smiled as Thorin's eyes dilated as she slowly unlaced his breeches, releasing his erection: Pulling down the garment clear of his legs so that he was as naked as she.

She gasped a little and bit her lip when she saw the size of him, proud and tall, his shaft was every bit as muscled as his torso.

She ran her tongue over her palm, wetting it, and then reached down to massage his throbbing member with slow, seductive flicks of the wrist. He was hot and sticky as his body got ready to welcome her. Thorin hissed and biting his lips viscously, heat sheared him and his muscles tensed wildly.

He couldn't take it anymore, the temptation; the pleasure was all too great for him. An animalistic growl erupted deep within his chest, as he grabbed her wrists and flung her beside him on the bed, pinning her underneath him.

Lif welcomed him, her legs parting to accept his warm body to her, her ankles instinctively locking around his waist.

Thorin felt her shudder and moan as he cupped her bottom and brushed his shaft tantalisingly against her wetness. Her hair was splayed out beneath her and her arms extended over her head, he watched cautiously as she struggled to maintain her control.

"Please Thorin, I need you," her tone was hoarse and half whispered, her chest rising rapidly as she panted, drawing her breast to his attention more. Without warning Thorin used his superior strength, lifting her into his arms and placed her on his lap, entwining their bodies in a tight embrace. They both shuddered and gasped as she slid on his shaft, Lif clung to him like a raft in a storm as his fullness consumed her and Thorin clang back her welcoming heat sending him reeling.

"My love, you are so wet," he moaned into her hair and Lif began to rise and fall, her speed languid at first then growing in power and speed. They moved as one. Perfect and synchronised.

Sweat coated their skin and sweet juices of love made their movements' slick and fluid. Their lips worked seamlessly, like partners in a dance, their tongues moved rhythmically, teasing as much pleasure as they could.

Thorin braced his hand on her lower back, supporting her as she continued to impale herself on him, heaving herself up and down. The tension coiled within them until it was too much for their bodies to bare.

Lif's threw her head back and cried Thorin's name to the heavens, not caring if anyone heard, dragging her nails down his back, scoring his tanned skin with deep angry welts. While Thorin dug his fingertips into her flesh and held her tight against chest, stars dancing in front of his eyes making his head spin.

They came together, reaching blinding ecstasy then both collapsing to the bed, their bodies still joined: panting in sated satisfaction and pleasure. Lif nestled into Thorin chest and he encircled her with his arms, dragging his soft blanket over them, protecting them from the chill of the air. Thorin glanced down at Lif as she mumbled sleepily into his chest.

"Hmm?" He asked, brushing some wispy flicks of brunette hair out of her eyes to look at her.

"Why do you have to be so wonderful?" she whispered almost mournfully as she eyelids fluttered and then closed, her breaths were deep and even, contented in a dreamless sleep.

Thorin gazed at her; she was in his arms, safe and sound like he wanted her to be. But he knew it would not last, this peaceful contentment would not last, but he refused to think of it now: not after the joy he had just experienced. He drew her closer and nestled her head under his chin, inhaling her almondy scent, he closed his eyes and drew off into a peaceful sleep. **

Light streamed through his balcony window bathing the bed in a warming glow. The sheets were tangled about his naked waist and his blanket kicked to the bottom of the bed. He shielded his eyes against the morning sunshine, grunting in annoyance: the only time he forgot to draw the bed curtains closed was the only time he slept properly.

Swinging himself over the edge of the bed, he yawned and stretched, rubbing his tired eyes as he padded naked over to the window meaning to pull the blinds closed, so that they blocked out a little of the morning sun.

But he froze as he reached for the curtain. It was already midmorning; the sun was high in the sky casting short shadows over the mountainside.

"Damn Malal!"He cursed, he was late, the party from the Iron Mountains arrived today and his Grandfather would expect him to welcome them. He spun on his heel and started to search for his clothes but halted in his tracks. Lif shifted and rolled over, still deep in sleep, her naked body only partially covered by the bed sheet.

The events of the previous night flashed into his mind and he both cursed and smiled: how could he forget. Sighing deeply, he sat on the edge of the bed, and gently ran his fingers up her spine, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on her skin and how arched her back a little into his touch.

She moaned and rolled onto her side looking at him, her bare chest and waist calling to him like heavenly music. Thorin bowed his head and kissed his way up her side, laying a last gentle kiss against her flushed lips.

"Good morning," he whispered gently as her eyes flickered open and she smiled at him.

"A girl could get used to this," she smirked as propped herself up on her elbow, her sleepy eyes roamed over Thorin's naked form, the sunlight shone of every tanned muscle making him look burnished bronze, the dark hairs of his body contrasting with his skin like coal in a fire.

"I know I won't," Thorin grinned brazenly as he kissed her again, pressing her down back against the pillows and his hands roaming through her hair: all worries and problems forgotten in a matter of seconds.

Until there was a gentle knock at the door. Lif cursed and tried to pin Thorin to the bed but he wriggled away from her grip and sshhed her with a frantic wave of his hand, while he pulled the bed curtains closed. Picking up his breeches that lay disguarded on the floor, Thorin went to open the door.

One of Frerin's attendants was at the door, holding a scroll in his hand, fighting hard to keep his face impassive as he saw Thorin's odd appearance.

"Your brother sends his regards and left this for you this morning before he set out," the messenger stated simply and handing the scroll over. Thorin silently took the scroll and read it.

"What an idiot!" he let out a hushed whisper, not knowing if he was furious or thankful to his brother.

"My Lord?" the messenger asked waiting for instruction. Thorin looked up and crumpled the scroll in his fist.

"Got to my Father, give him my apologies and say I am not well enough to leave my room. I do not need healers; it's just a bad headache. Tell him not to worry," Thorin put finality in his tone. The messenger nodded and bowed then left. Thorin grinned as the messenger left, shutting the door behind him and making the lock secure he returned to bed.

Pulling the bed curtains open, he found Lif reclining naked on the pillows, her eyes burning like scorched limestone. If he didn't hold the letter in his hand, he would have made love to her all morning.

"Anything important?" she asked anxious that he would be called away. Thorin laid next to her and handed her the wrinkled letter, watching her expression as she read it. Her brow crinkled slightly with confusion and she looked back at him.

"I'm not sure I understand," her green eyes searched him face; Thorin kissed her shoulder and took the letter from her, letting her settle her head against his chest as he read.

_"My dear big brother, _

_I fear you will be angry with me. You may have heard a rumour already but there may have been an altercation at one of my functions the other night. Your little Liffy attacked Niro! Not saying he didn't bring it on himself but I cannot ignore her actions Thorin. I had to exile her, Niro is the Captain of the Royal Guard, and I couldn't ignore the slight. _

_It is widely known that she left the mountain late last night in a hurry; many saw her leave, I myself left early the next morning. _

_You're Brother, Frerin_

_P.S. hope you slept well_." Thorin finished reading and looked down Lif who looked confused.

"Well what do you make of that?" He asked stroking a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. Lif sat up and looked at him.

"But I'm not exiled, I only punched him, he deserved it," her voice was passionate as she spoke, justifying her actions.

"You punched Niro? Ha! But no, that is not the point, though it is amusing. Frerin has spread the rumour that you were exiled and left the Mountain. I can keep you safe; keep you secret from my father, from my grandfather. Don't you see, this way I don't have to worry about my Father's retribution if he thinks you've already left," Thorin's voice was alive, full of hope and longing for the simplicity of his plan.

Lif sat up, crossed legged in the middle of the bed, studying her hands. "I understand you want to keep me secret. I know you didn't intend this to happen between us, if people could control how they felt about one another the world would be a far similar place but I don't want to be locked in a cupboard or hidden away never to see the light of day." She stared at him intensely, draping the bed sheet around her, although Thorin could still see her naked body through the thin material.

"I want to be able to live, Thorin. I am not a toy to be played with every now and then," she searched his face with her eyes, determined not blink as he stared back at her. Thorin sighed and dragged a hand through his tousled black hair; he took her hands in his and studied to the scar on her palm, running his thumb over it as he did: a sick feeling settled in his stomach.

"I'll make a deal with you, If I find a way to keep you safe and for you to be free, you'll smile for me," Thorin cast his worried eyes at her, the gentleness of her leaving her almost breathless.

"You promise?" she asked earnestly trying to keep the grin from her lips. Thorin leaned his face towards her and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I'll certainly try my best," he whispered smiling when she allowed herself to smile. Lif cupped his jaw and drew him into a deep kiss, running her hand over his bare shoulders and knotting her hand into his hair.

"Do you think this was Frerin's plan all along?" Lif asked suddenly, pulling back and staring at Thorin. The Prince thought for a moment then shrugged.

"Knowing my brother…Yes, you know I think it was, " he replied musingly, pulling Lif against him so her head laid against his bare chest, stoking his fingers against the tips of her hair the touched the small of her back.

"Remind me to send him a thank you note," Lif said snuggling into his chest, and then pulled out of his arms, laying a hand over his heart.

"Don't you have to go meet your Father?" she asked suddenly worried she had made him late. Thorin smiled lazily, lifting her wrist and placing his lips to her palm.

"I am in bed with headache," Thorin stated, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Lif cocked her eyebrow and put her hands on her hips, a cheeky smirk curling on her lips.

"Is that so? Well I best be going then..." she chuckled and started off the bed, but Thorin caught her waist and pulled her back down to the mattress, pinning her under him: his hair draping around them like dark curtains.

"You are not going anywhere and that's an order..."he growled huskily before kissing her deeply.

And so they spent most of the day in bed, enjoying each other's company and each other's body, they made love and slept and held each other, loving each moment that passed between them. Thorin didn't want it to end. He would have happily died in Lif's arms that day, as they both hid from the world outside the bed curtains.

It was dusk when Thorin woke; he stretched and yawned, then extracted himself from the tangle of blankets: being careful not to wake Lif was still asleep. Splashing water on his face and neck, he donned fresh clothes, penned a quick note which he left on Lif's pillow and shut the door behind him.

He had plans to make and time was racing against him.

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**I hope that was okay. Its my very first full out sex scene, really hope it turned out okay. **

**As always let me know what you're thinking through reviews. And to all who take the time I will reward with PM's. :{D BADPENNY OUT!**


	5. Nightcap

**It's so fluffy!- BADPENNY**

**Changes have been succesfully made. Apprantly three updates in one weekend is my limit- BADPENNY**

Nightcap

Thorin's business had taken longer than he had originally expected. The moon had risen and the sky had darkened fully- stars twinkled like a black satin sheet covered in diamonds.

Painful guilt welled up in Thorin's chest; the supper cong had sounded and he had been brought food by the Scroll Guardians as he poured laboriously over the dusty paper work of the Great Library.

Lif was alone. No food or company, Damn his selfishness, he couldn't even send word to her about his lateness. Would she worry? Would she be mad? Maybe, though he doubted she would show it.

Rubbing the dust from his tired eyes and letting the scroll snap shut, he got to his feet and left, the Scroll Guardians bowing to him as he passed.

Thorin made his way through the maze of dark halls, sticking to the small and more scenic corridors to prevent any of Dain's or his Father's men seeing him. He couldn't be seen wandering around out of bed when he was supposed to be bound to his bed chamber.

Hiding and skulking, he hated it, it wasn't honourable; but then again he'd disobeyed a royal decree, formally pledged himself in the ancient language out of wedlock and was pretty much holding her against her will- what was a little skulking compared with that?

Thorin let out a long tired sigh and dragged his hand though his dark hair. It was tangled and knotted without his braids, falling about his face and his eyes. Love warmed his chest at the thought of Lif undoing all his plaits and clasps, but was swiftly followed by heavy guilt: Thorin increased his pace, eager to be by Lif's side once more.

_I am protecting her; from my father; from those who would use her as a tool against me: it is for her own good_. He thought stubbornly trying to legitimise his actions.

_But who are you really protecting, her or yourself?_ A cold voice crept from the back of his mind, sending chills down his spine; it was spiteful and cruel and sounded much like his father's voice.

Turning a sharp corner, Thorin rounded into gigantic kitchens, pushing the swinging doors open he was hit with by a wall of hot air, filled with glorious smells of baking and roast meat. Stopping a red faced kitchen assistant he asked for food to be prepared for him on a tray.

"My Lord, would you not be more comfortable in the Great Hall?" The young assistant asked, his eyes staring respectuflly at his shoes.

"I have a pounding headache and wish to eat in the solace of my chamber," he said coldly. He knew any information he communicated would soon reach his father's ears, the little he said the better. Soon after he made his way back up the servant's private staircase of the Durin's quarters, carefully balancing a silver tray in his hands and a wine skin slung over his shoulder, Thorin paused at the top and caught his breath.

_How did the servants do this all day? _He thought in disbelief, shuddering inwardly at the thought of Lif doing such hard labour. Actually, anyone doing such physically demanding work and not being recognised for it. The Miners and craftsman were praised and applauded for their work which made Erebor rich and prosperous, but what of the other workers who helped make Erebor great?

Thorin made a mental note to change this as he used his elbow to manipulate the door handle open and slid inside his room, carefully closing the door behind him with his hip.

Lif was sat on the tiled floor by the open balcony window, letting a cool breeze drift in, the night sky laid out before them and a single candlelit next to her so she could read. Clothed in her simple dress and a blanket around her shoulders: A pair of Thorin's woolly socks on her feet.

Tension unfurled in Thorin's belly, he'd been half expecting her to have disappeared like a happy dream you can't remember.

"Evening stranger," she called happily, closing her book and putting it on the floor next to her. She started get to her feet.

"No, don't get up," he said gently, placing the tray on the floor and sitting next to her, smiling as her stomach grumbled.

"Mmm, what smells so good?" She asked animatedly, licking her lips as her stomach rumbled again. Thorin crossed his legs and pulled the tray closer. Lif hummed with appreciation and stared hungrily at the food. The silver tray was covered in delicacies that only the high table at banquets; some she couldn't even name.

Sliced meats covered in rich cream sauces, tender duck in plum marinade, pheasant pie with herb crust. But that was not all, for desert there were fruit pastries, honeyed pecans, bright pink pears and exotic chocolate covered black cherries.

"How did you get all this?" she asked in awe, sinking her teeth into a warm duck leg, a little conscience that Thorin was watching her intently.

"Being a prince does have its advantages," he smiled and shrugged, stroking his dark beard as he watched her enjoying the food.

"What did you do while you were out?" Lif asked wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"I think I solved our problem," Thorin smirked and wiping a smudge of plum sauce from corner of her mouth with his thumb where she'd missed.

"Oh yeah which one; the one where your father wants me dead; or the one where you're going to be married off; or that real doozey where everyone thinks I'm exiled," Lif's voice was light and joking, but her eyes were sad and Thorin could sense the stiff tension in her words.

"Lif, I know that I..." he reached for her but Lif calmed him by cupping is jaw and brushing his lips with a light stroke of her thumb.

"I'm sorry, that was unfair," she said sighing deeply. "I'm just cabin sick. I'm not used to being so idle."

Thorin looked about his bedroom, normally it was tidy but today it was sparkling. His personal collection of books had been alphabetised and colour coded, his bed sheets had been folded until the edges were sharp, and the neglected plants on the balcony had been watered and pruned into the shapes of animals.

He turned back just as she sank her teeth into a pear, juice running down her chin and onto her fingers.

"Come here," he chuckled and grabbed her waist, sliding her over to him on the smoothe tiled floor; until her back pressed into his chest and his legs were bent either side of her. Lif laughed but didn't pull away as his hands slid around her and took the pear from her hands. Sinking his fingers into the pulpy flesh until juice ran between his fingers, he broke it into small bits and fed her them.

"I'm sorry I was away so long today," he breathed in her ear, sending shivers through her as he ran his thumb over her jaw, gently placing another bit of fruit into her open mouth and watching her savour the taste.

Her fingers bunched into the fabric at his knees and rested her head against his chest; Lif couldn't help but feel his warmth all the way to her bones. She nipped at his fingers when the entire pear was gone, licking off the juice. Thorin growled and pulled his hand away. He wanted this precious moment to last and just enjoy the peace and quiet.

Leaning forward for the tray, Thorin then picked up a fruit pastry, broke it into pieces and lifted it to her mouth. But at the last moment pulled it away slightly, enjoying how her lips searched for it and how her body sent vibrations through him as she laughed.

Lif leaned away and grabbed the wine skin that lay disguarded on the floor, carefully filling a goblet that Thorin had brought with him. Placing her hand against his cheek, she guided the wine to his lips. He drank deeply, his piercing blue eyes watching her over the rim of the gold goblet- the muscles in his jaw contracting under her hand. His whiskers scraped against her hand and cheek as Thorin took the goblet away and pulled her closer, his chin resting comfortably in the crook of her neck.

"You will be gone all day tomorrow," it wasn't a question, but she whispered it, her eyes staring at the dark sky above them: Thankful for Thorin's body keeping away the nights chill.

"Yes, I will be expected to treat with Dain's people, otherwise Father might grow suspicious." Thorin said sombrely, hating how she sighed and pulled him closer for comfort.

"Hurry back," she whispered. She didn't badger him to stay, didn't sound annoyed, just accepted that it was his duty and needed to be done.

"Always," he breathed in her ear, hating himself even more as he said the words.

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**If you like this story you're sure to love my other story- Lost Pasts and Hidden destiny's- please review and let me know what you think. **


	6. Old friends burn brightest

Sorry if you find any spelling mistakes, I was really tired when I wrote this. Next update should be saturday/ sunday time ish- BADPENNY

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Old friends burn brightest

Thorin was bruised and battered and he ached all over but it was still worth it to see Dain's smug face covered in mud and sweat and red with shame. His day of leisure had cost him dearly. Any weakness shown by royalty is a chink in their armour and an entire day is a gaping hole. Wild rumours circulated about his "poor health," and he awoke the next morning with flowers and sick cards waiting outside of Durin's door. Not from anyone who truly cared but merely members of the court who wished to carry favour.

However his "poor health" was also an opportunity for Dain to prove himself the better Dwarf in the combat of the training field, which had been erected on the grassy knoll just in front of the mountain in celebration of the Iron Hill's clan visit.

But Thorin was not suffering "poor health," in fact quite the opposite. His sword and club swung through the air mercilessly, landing a barrage of blows on Dain's legs, ribs and shield; the reason being, the sooner Dain yielded, the sooner Thorin could get back to Lif.

In the end it took two broken fingers and fractured nose for Dain to yield. He was a small rat looking dwarf who had a cruel temperament, Thorin had never liked him but then again, you cannot choose your family. Though he did get immense pleasure when Dain limped off the field calling shrilly for healers.

Thorin tossed down his wooden training sword and made his way towards the spectators' ring, where he could see Dwalin watching. His friend did not wave, in fact Dwalin was so lost in his own thoughts that he jumped when Thorin threw his arm around his shoulders.

"The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I just beat Dain to a bloody pulp: Could today actually get any better?" Thorin asked musingly, knowing the answer was "YES", It would get better when all his duties were done and got back to his chambers where Lif was waiting for him.

"I hadn't noticed," Dwalin replied darkly, shrugging off his friends arm and turning to walk back to the mountain. Thorin stared bemused for a moment then dashed after him, having to jog to keep up with his pace.

"What crawled up your arse and died?" Thorin asked sarcastically, jabbing Dwalin with his elbow. They had moved away the crowded training field and were half way up the grassy slope when Dwalin wheeled on him, glaring darkly.

"You just let him kick her out. Just like that. After saving your life you didn't even lift a finger when Frerin tossed her out into the wilderness. How could you? I thought..." Dwalin's angry growl drifted away, he cursed wildly before striding away up the hill.

The bottom dropped out of Thorin's stomach. He'd completely forgotten. Dwalin's words ran around his head...

_"Sure, we was youngun's together, used to run bloody riot when we was kids,"- _Dwalin was mourning his friend, the only friend he'd carried from the cradle. Thorin cursed himself and dashed after the disappearing figure. Grabbing his elbow he spun Dwalin round to look at him. Dwalin wrenched his arm out of Thorin's grip and continued to glare.

"Dwalin you have to forgive me," Dwalin's eyes widened at Thorin sincere words. They were friends no matter what but Thorin was still a Prince and apologised to no one.

"Depends what you did," Dwalin said tentatively, both bewildered and curious by his friends behaviour. Thorin swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and glanced around nervously.

"You have to promise not to mention this to anyone. Promise to me in Khuzdul, only then will I tell you all." Thorin stated determinedly, glancing over his shoulder one more time. Dwalin didn't waste a second in swearing his silence. Thorin's unease grew; it was not that he didn't trust Dwalin; on the contrary, he would trust him with his life. It was just how to phrase his actions to someone who considered Lif to be somewhat of a sister.

"I may have ... formally pledged myself in Khuzdul ...to Lif," Thorin stated haltingly, choosing each word carefully and deliberately: One wrong move and Dwalin's temper would go over like a firework on Durin's day. Thorin took a step back as his friends body tensed, Dwalin's muscles contracted and his knuckles cracked, while his face went from a shade of grey to brilliant red.

"YOU!...Frerin...Exiled...Thrain HURT!" The growled words strained barely seeped out through his clenched jaw. He looked like he was having some type of fit. Thorin grabbed the sides of his head and looked at his in the eyes, not daring to blink.

"Listen to me. I love her, I cannot help it but I do. Do not worry I have a plan to ensure her safety," Thorin reassured Dwalin, using his commanding tone saved only for battle. Dwalin's face paled and he took a deep breath. He lifted his hand as if to say –_Give me a minute_- and stepped away from Thorin and began to pace.

After five minutes of continues pacing and growling under his breath, Dwalin halted and turned to Thorin.

"You say you are formally pledged?" His hot whiskey eyes were piecing, Thorin struggled to maintain their gaze.

"It was one of the first things I did," Thorin reassured matter-of-factly. Dwalin beamed then, his hazel eyes sparkling under his thick beard.

"Well then, I suppose there's nothin' to say then," Dwalin laughed and came forward, grabbing Thorin's shoulders and shaking him with affection.

"You do realise that if you hurt her, it won't matter if you're a Prince or not, I'm still gonna hunt ya' down and use ya' head as a door wedge?" He continued to grin merrily, as if he'd just said good morning politely, but he squeezed Thorin's shoulders until he felt his circulation stop.

"I figured as much," Thorin shifted uncomfortably, he knew that that was a promise and Dwalin meant to carry it out.

"Glad we're clear. Now where is she? Can I not congratulate my old friend?" Dwalin thumped Thorin heavily on the shoulder, making Thorin wince as they both began walking back towards the mountain, when Thorin was struck with a thought.

"Actually I could rather do with your advice! You see..." He draped his arm over his friends shoulder and the pair walked together into Erebor, talking and planning for the weeks ahead.

And that evening Thorin was truly content as he entertained Dain's host. For he knew that Lif was safe and enjoying the company of her childhood friend: Who, even though, had progressed above his station in life and had the ear of royalty, still guarded her like a brother. And for Thorin, that was more he could ask for.

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**AH How cute! Dwalin is really under done in Fanficts in my opinion. We deffo need more. **

**If you like this story, you'll just love my other one –Fateful pasts and hidden destiny's- Or you could just review. Whatever takes your fancy. **


	7. Moving day

Moving day

**A bird may love a fish, but where will they live? Then I shall have to give them wings. **

Thorin and Dwalin spent much of the next days away, at first turning up at random at various points during the day, then falling into a schedule. Thorin would get up before dawn and leave a breakfast tray for her. Dwalin would pop around at lunch time with a bowl of soup and something for her supper. Thorin would turn up late in the evening and crawl into bed, too exhausted to talk.

Their secret activities were starting to grate on Lif's nerves. She wasn't a pet to be checked on during the day. It had been more than two weeks since she'd stepped foot on grass and stretched her legs properly. Thorin said the situation wasn't permanent, that she wouldn't be trapped for long but cabin fever pressed in on her: she felt like she was slowly suffocating.

She developed a routine as well; starting the day with breakfast on Thorin's balcony, then dressed in one of the dresses she'd borrowed from Dis's disused bedroom, the afternoon was spent working her way through the hundreds of books in the private library, and finishing with her cleaning and waiting for Thorin to return. She would eat alone, read alone and spend less than five minutes a day talking with the two men she loved most.

It was past midnight when Thorin finally returned, Dwalin had left her lunch on the table in the hallway but she hadn't had the stomach to eat. She just sat on the edge of the bed and stared unseeing out the open balcony window. Or staring hatefully at her hands, soft and smooth, they had lost their hand working callouses and roughness: soft and useless.

The door creaked and Thorin silently walked in and closed it behind him.

She got up and stood facing him, her hands bunched into the fabric of her borrowed skirt.

"Thorin I need to talk to you," she said simply, not meeting his eyes. The Prince stood before her, looking at her with bewilderment and slight anxiousness.

"Lif?" He asked lightly, his lips trying to curl into a smile but then falling as she spoke in a sombre tone.

"Thorin I don't think I can do this," she breathed, pain stabbing through her chest, tears starting to well in her eyes. Thorin sucked in a breathe and placed what he was holding on the bed and sat down next to it , leaning heavily on his elbows, looking at her mournfully.

"Of course, I ...understand," his voice was void of emotion, he didn't meet her eyes, merely looked at the floor. Lif closed the distance between in two strides and knelt before him, cupping his chin in her hands and tilting his head to look at her.

"No you don't, you silly dwarf. I am going insane. I can't spend another day stuck inside, I'll go mad," she whispered desperately, pleading with him to understand.

"I love you more than anything but sweetheart –"she pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss, smiling at the feel of him, "- call the doctor because I have a serious case of cabin fever."

Thorin sucked in a relieved breath and wrapped his strong arms round her shoulders, drawing her close to his chest, kissing her hair and inhaling her sinful scent. He pulled back suddenly and looked at her with intense eyes, cupping her face in his palms.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, do you hear me?" He commanded desperately, pulling her to him again.

"You thought I wanted to leave you, didn't you?" Thorin felt her voice muffle again his chest.

"I couldn't blame you if you still won't to," he chuckled and pulling her off her knees to sit comfortably on his lap. Lif smiled down at him, running her thumb the coarse hairs of his beard.

"That would be like asking a bird to live without wings, besides Dwalin would kill me if I hurt you," she smiled lightly but there was an undercurrent of sadness in her voice. Thorin sighed heavily and stood them both up, pushing her in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

"Dwalin wanted me to wait to show you what we've been working on but I'll show you if you promise to act surprised in front of Dwalin," Thorin said cheerfully, moving back to the bed he picked what he'd thrown done. It turned out to be a mucky miner's cloak that Lif recognised as Dwalin's.

"Lucky he left this…" Thorin mumbled absently to himself. Thorin draped it over her shoulders and laughed loudly at how she looked.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, she too burst out laughing, for she was swamped by the drab fabric. The cloak benched around her ankles and her body was lost in folds of fabric. Thorin took her hand and led her out of Durin's house, pausing at the main door briefly to raise her hood over her eyes.

"I am blind, do not let me walk into anything," Lif complained but her heart soared at being able to stretch her legs and watch the hallways pass by them as they walked hand in hand. They rose steadily, taking the older pathways up in to the very highest passages. Suddenly Thorin halted and started running his hands over the bare stone, Lif snorted in amusement.

"What are you a stone whisperer now?" She said sarcastically, struggling to stiffly a laugh.

"Sssh be patient, it just takes a gentle…" There was a loud click and a section of stone swung open like a door, to reveal a narrow passageway deep into the rock. Thorin smirked at her as she passed him.

"Alright don't get cocky, what is this place?" She whispered but her voice echoed loudly spoiling the eerie calm that surrounded them. The narrow corridor opened up suddenly into a wide cavern, ornate shelves had been carved into the rock face which raised high into the air, and on each shelf sat a giant black raven. The birds peered down at the with interest, their black coats shining like coals in a fire. "Their beautiful," Lif breathed.

Everyone had heard of the ravens of Erebor but she had never seen them this close. They were a symbol of Erebor's longevity and the dwarves strength.

"I used to play up here as a small boy. There isn't an inch I haven't climbed or scraped my knee on," Thorin smiled nostalgically, taking her hand he led her deeper into the catacombs. "My mother Thetis once said that if I spent any more time with Roäc, that I would grow wings and fly away."

"Who's Roäc?" Lif asked lightly, smiling at the idea of a boy Thorin running riot up here. Thorin turned and smiled broadly.

"You are about to meet him," Thorin laughed cryptically. They continued through the dark set of catacombs, the space was tight and small, stone walls pressed in on both sides as they squeezed through a narrow passage. Lif halted as they came into the inner sanctum.

The high chamber was inlaid with ornate gold and emerald, although covered with a thick layer of dust, the room shone with grandeur.

"Roäc, look who I've brought to meet you," Thorin called fondly, tugging her over to a tall silver podium in the middle of the room, and sat on top was the biggest raven Lif had ever seen: Roäc was at least thigh high on her, his coat like the night sky and his glassy black eyes like stars shining in the sky. Roäc's court cawed wildly until Roäc silenced them with a flutter of his black wings. He hopped round her, looking her up and down, studying her. Lif stood rooted to the stop, not know if she should bow or feed him bread crumbs. However she made her mind up, he maybe a raven but he was still a king.

"Roäc I am honoured," she said humbly, bowing to the Raven king. She straightened suddenly as Roäc let out a high pitched caw that sounded like a laugh.

"Thorin has picked nice She-Dwarf," Roäc said bobbing his head to Thorin.

"You can talk!" Lif squeaked, staring at the bird.

"My Grandfather taught Roäc's father Carc and I taught Roäc," Thorin added off hand before turning to the Raven court, "so you approve?" he called to the ravens who's call rose into a deafening crescendo.

"Approve, approve of what?" Lif shouted to Thorin over the bird calls. The Prince waited for silence to respond.

"I am invoking the Priestess of Muninn…" He let his word drift away as he watched her over joyed face beam at him. Lif through herself into his arms and he swung her around, both laughing with bird calls ringing in their ears.

"You best not be playing some kind of sick joke," Lif asked sternly, but Thorin shook his head.

"Thank you! And thank you my lord," she hugged Thorin again and bowed to Roäc. The Priestess of Muninn was an ancient custom that had been forgotten over the centuries. The Priestesses duty was to care for the ravens and ensure their wellbeing, she had the entire upper mountain to roam freely, since the rocky heights were hard to reach by foot, the upper mountain was unspoiled virgin mountainside.

"Would you like see your own home sweet home?" Thorin asked unable to keep the smile from his face as she beamed at him and held his hand too tight from excitement. Just hidden behind Roäc's podium was a secret door which led into a hallway lit by a single torch. Apprehension built inside her as she saw the barren room, but Thorin strode in a pulled a heavily curtain away from the wall. Moonlight rushed in and Thorin pulled her by the hand into another chamber.

It was one long chamber, a fire burned at the far end heating the entire room, moonlight rushed through a large murky circular window. Lif walked around the room, soaking it all in. Hidden round a jagged rock corner she found a hot water spring carved out of the rock.

"It belonged to the last priestess long ago, I suppose one of the Durin kings gave it to her and now I give it to you," Thorin shuffled nervously. His back was towards her as he looked out of the window and down into the valley. "Me and Dwalin fixed it up as best we could, the window had shattered in a storm and the fire wouldn't draw, it could do with a sweep and I think bats had started to roost… If you don't like it is fine," He rambled as Lif came close and wrapped her arms round his chest.

"It's perfect. You've not only given me a home, you've given me a purpose." She whispered, overwhelmed by his actions. He turned in her arms and looked down at her.

"Priestess of Muninn is a hard job, think you can handle it?" He asked, brushing cobwebs from her hair. She chuckled and thumped his chest playfully.

"I like working, remember?"

* * *

Yeah, so guys sorry but bad news next Hidden pasts chap may be posted not this weekend but two weeks today- O-0 yeah shit happens.

Keep reviewing!


	8. Duties and gifts

**Yeah... so this escalated quickly. From a simple fluf chap it turned into...well, you'll understand why I can't sit down. - badpenny**

Duties and gifts

As summer turned to autumn, the leaves of the tress turned golden brown and the King's guard swapped their summer cloaks for their winter garb, preferring thick fur and wool to thin cotton. The weather turned colder and flurries of snow could be seen on the very highest peaks but Lif knew that the snow would not begin to fall for another two weeks of so, she still had time to finish her bulb planting for the next year.

The months had passed in quick succession, so much so the Lif barely noticed the passing of time. Six weeks after Thorin had first given her the post Lif had officially moved in. Priestess of Muninn was an official post so Thorin had no qualms with financing some renovations works.

Craftsmen had put in a large closet and large doors that opened up into a wide ledge, which was wide enough to form a medium sized garden, Lif was already planting herbs and hay for the ravens and planned on getting some hives for the masonry bees. At the far end of the main living room, next to the doors a large oven and chimney were fitted and a sink carved out of the rock face, water diverted from the spring to fill the taps. After that was completed the bathroom was modernised so that the water flow of the hot spring could be regulated easier with large taps, adding also a locking door for privacy and some shelves. A front door had been added in the small hallway behind Roäc's podium and a mat placed in front of it that said "Welcome Home." Finally, wooden flooring was added to keep the coldness to the stone out and two steps fitted to split up the living room/kitchen and bedroom.

Lif didn't mind these basic things being added, after all she was in an official office, however Thorin had others idea about what was defined as "basic".

"No!" Lif said firmly, her hands on her hips, glaring at Thorin.

"Why not? You need a bed don't you?" Thorin retorted quickly glancing down at the paper plans in front of him on the table.

"Yes, I need a bed but not that monstrosity!" She shouted incredulously, gesturing in disbelief at the intricate drawing.

"Monstrosity! Why what's not to like? It's got gold and jewels and ..." Thorin began, grinning warmly trying to coax a smile from her stern face.

"And rubies and amber and silver and carvings of bears and swans, not forgetting the feet shaped like lion's paws and to finish it off the bloody great dragon's tail wrapped around the base!" Lif interrupted, counting them on her fingers, but her voice was light and she laughed and pulled Thorin into her arms by his hips. He glanced down at the plans and chewed his lip.

"It is a bit big," he said quiet, glancing around the bedroom area.

"Big! That thing makes Bombur look like a wee Dwarrow," Lif and Thorin laughed loudly at the mention of the new apprentice that had been hired in the kitchens. The kitchen doors had had to be widened for him to even step foot in front of the ovens.

"Just something simple, that's all I need," Lif said when their laughter had subsided. Standing on her tiptoes she kissed him lightly, tugging his beard gently.

"But I want to give you the best money can buy," he whispered grinning, kissing her hungrily. Lif pulled back and ran her thumb over his bottom lip.

"You are the best money can buy, why would I want anything more?" She kissed him again lightly on the cheek. "Simple Thorin, keep it simple."

"Simple?" He asked incredulously, as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Yes, imagine how Dwalin's brain works but apply it to furniture."

* * *

As Durin's day approached Lif's chambers were finally finished, and she, Dwalin and Thorin were happy with the result. Dwalin had insisted on a large cushioned sofa and armchair next t to the fire, which he used on a regular basis to sleep on. His older brother Balin, who Lif liked though had never really spoken to, had just taken charge of the family merchants and had apparently become "too big for his beard." And on another note he had gained an unhealthy addiction to Lif's apple and cinnamon cookies, which he burned his mouth on and ate by the tray full as they came out the oven.

Thorin was happy because he had a warm, comfortable place of solace that he could almost call his own. When he was in council meetings or state banquets, he would let his mind wonder and ponder why he liked it so much, and then it came to him one day while he was supposed to be listen to Dain; it was simple untainted by intrigue or gold, carved out of the mountain itself as the gods intended: qualities that embodied Lif herself. For it was hidden away from the politics and ceremony, it was a hidey hole against the world: it was where his heart was, it was his home.

And Lif... well Lif was too busy to be happy and that was how she liked it. So in her own way, I suppose she was. Her hands had regained their gnarly roughness, she was up at the first light of dawn and went to bed when the moon was at its highest, with a large glass of red wine and someone either napping on her couch or waiting in her bed. And she loved every second of it.

Lif set down her book on the table next to her red velvet armchair and went to check on the pie she had baking in the over. Rosehip and lemon chicken pie with herb crust, Lif crouched in front of the open oven door and stuck her knife through the pastry. Clucking her tongue she closed the door and padded back to her chair: ten more minutes.

Suddenly she heard the light thud of Thorin kicking off his boots outside the door. Lif smiled at the sound of him stumbling on one foot while he struggled with the other shoe, cursing loudly as he fell into the door with a low thump. Getting to her feet she placed a pan full with wine over the fire, tossed in a few spices, an opened the door just in time for Thorin to straighten up as if he didn't have a bruise forming on his head.

"Hello stranger," she said, trying to hide her grin. But her face fell when she saw his exhausted look and the dark tension that surrounded him. "What in Durin's name is wrong?" Lif asked, pulling him by the hand and pushed him into a chair, anxiety coiling in her chest.

Thorin closed his eyes and held his head up with his hand, not even moving to take off his cloak. Lif took the pan off the heat and filled a large mug then pressed it into Thorin's hand. Then pulled a chair from the kitchen table across to sit opposite him, waiting silently as he drunk deeply from his mug, only when it was empty did he speak.

"Thranduil turned up today," his voice was hoarse and strained, hours on ceremony exhausted him Lif knew, but he'd pushed himself to far today.

"What did the elves want?" Lif asked frowning slightly as she went to heat more wine, running her hands absently over his arm as she moved. Thorin sighed at her touch, he would have smiled but he was too weary of the outside world.

"Apparently there has been some goings on in the Greenwood, Thranduil wanted to consult with Thror about it. By Malah they know how to tick a dwarf off!" He cursed irritation still raw from when Thranduil bare inclined his head to the Durin throne. In some circles that would have been considered an act of war but Thror had a long standing treaty with the elves and knew how to deal with them.

"They're only elves, what can you expect," she said lightly, pressing another mug full of hot wine to Thorin. Lif and the hot wine had warmed him; he touched her hand softly as he took the mug from her and watched as she returned to the oven.

"I shouldn't put my burdens on you like this," he said absently, blowing to cool the hot wine.

"A dwarf cannot carry the entire mountain, sometimes the weight must be shared," she said matter-of – factly, bending over to take the pie out of the oven. He father had said that to her when she was a child whenever she'd got into a fight with a bully or tried to carry more things than she could manage. It was odd to think now that the traitor's daughter was using it to lecture royalty. Lif straightened and placed the hot pie on the oven top to cool.

"How come you don't wear that dress I gave to you?" Thorin's voice asked ruefully from behind her. She turned and found him staring at her unhappily at her old baggy dress.

"I don't know what you mean, I do wear it," she said quickly, turning away from his searching eyes. Suddenly Thorin's strong hands slid down her arms and around her waist.

"Is that so?" he whispered in her ear, his coarse beard brushing against the sensitive skin of her ear and sending shivers down her body. Taking her by the hand he spun her round and led her up the steps and around the bed, stopping in front of the open closet. The dress was emerald green satin, with a long a flowing skirt and jewel studded bodice: But more importantly it still had Thorin's note pinned to the front, reading- "_You have my heart and soul, now here's a dress to match." _

"You don't like it?" He cocked his eyebrow in an unhappy manner, laying his gently hands on her shoulders. Lif shuffled and met his eye defiantly.

"That is not it an' you know it," she chastised sharply.

"You won't let me give you jewels or jewellery, I thought this would make you happy," he said troubled, turning away from her. Lif let out a frustrated growl, dragging her hand threw her hair.

"I am happy and I do not need things, it's just I am... I'm not," she let her words drift away and she sat on the simple but large bed and rested her head in her hands.

"You're not what?" Thorin asked moving to stand in front of her, his hands on his hips, studying her. Lif looked up and shrugged, growing more guilty by the second.

"Those women that Frerin hangs about with, or the women of court, It's too nice to be worn by someone who does not suit it. I am plain and pale and my hairs a mess," she said exasperated and shrugged, not meeting Thorin's eyes. In truth as her mother died when she was young her father had been at a loss about female clothing and for many years had dressed her in trousers because it was easier. Originally Dwalin had only played with her because he thought she'd been a boy. It wasn't until puberty that she started wearing dresses.

"Come here," Thorin commanded strongly, extending his hand to her. Letting her calloused fingers entwine into his, he moved her to stand in front of a long mirror at the foot of the bed. His hands on her shoulders, as he stood behind her watching both their reflections.

"Tell me what you see?" He asked in a businesslike tone. Lif would have laughed if Thorin's face wasn't so straight.

"I see you," she replied trying to turn back to him, but he held her lightly in place.

"And do you know what I see?" He whispered in her ear and dipped his head to nuzzle her. Lif moaned at his sudden action and leaned into his touch. His arms slipped round her and pressed her body against his, she moaned at his hardness that pressed against her back. His fingers trailed up her and they both watched as his clever fingers unlaced the bodice of her simple dress, letting it fall to the ground, leaving her standing the baggy under shirt. Thorin grimaced at the sight of it.

"I see the woman who has made me fall in love with her. I see the bravery and the morale strength that would have made all of Frerin's floozies to turn and cower," his breathe was hot against her collar bone and his fingertips brushed sinfully gently over sensitive skin of her nipple which was hidden under the thin fabric.

"I see the wispy hair that makes my skin tingle when you curl close to me in a morning," he almost purred the words the words into her ear making her legs quiver and goosebumps rise on her arms. The strings on her under shirt pulled away with ease and the cotton shift slid down her body until it pooled around her ankles on the floor. Thorin growled low and hungrily, his shining eyes glinting at her in the mirror as he drank in the look of her naked body like a fine wine. His clothes and leather trousers scraped against her sensitive skin making her shiver with anticipation. His still had his cloak on.

"You are pale, but I wouldn't be able to do this if you weren't," he chuckled lightly, raising his hands and cupping her face so a rosy blush spread through her cheeks. Lif moaned in frustrated anticipation as his hands left her body. Without thinking she caught his fingers with her own, moving one down her body to capture the swell of her breast, and the teasilingly slowly slid the other inch by inch until his fingers brushed the dark hairs between her legs, just letting the tips of his fingers touch her wet heat.

"Only you would say such things my love," Lif moan arching her back as he gently slid one fingertip over her core, teasing tendrils of pleasure from her body.

Thorin quivered and moaned shamelessly, she rocked against him, her lips slightly parted and her eyes half lidded in the throes of passion. Suddenly something snapped within him and a loud growl erupted from his throat. Spinning her in his arms, he claimed her lips, ravaging her mouth like he was dying of thirst and she was an oasis.

Lif caught a surprised breath, as his lips danced against hers. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp of his cloak and as it fell away; her hands sort his shirt and trousers. He hissed at the contact but Lif didn't stop until they were both naked and panting. He enthralled her, his taste made her drunk and his touch sent her other the edge of sanity.

He ran his hands down her arms and gently pushed her to the bed, her knees caught and she fell backwards. But before she could protest he knelt between her thighs and kissed her stomach briefly before cupping her bum and pulling her hips towards his mouth.

Lif saw stars as his tongue swirled around her; he tormented and delved, over and over and over until tears ran down her cheeks.

"Please Thorin," she cried weakly, the pleasure was too much, her fingers nails scratched his scalp and neck and she wrapped her legs over his shoulders. She was so weak. As pleasure built within her body, she felt like she would shatter like a shard of glass.

The sound of her pleasure echoed in his ears. He could feel her body respond to every touch and quiver like the strings on his harp with every sensual lick he delivered to her. Thorin revelled in her; he would show her how better she was than any who had belittled her and made her feel unworthy of beautiful things.

His beard scratched her thighs but it was the sensation that sent her over the edge. She released so fiercely that she threw her head back against the mattress and screamed as deep waves of pleasure washed over her. Sobs caught in her throat as bliss blinded her.

Thorin laid gentle kisses up her body and carefully pressed his body on top of hers, being careful to hold his weight off her. He smiled and memorised her face for all time; flushed and tear stained it couldn't be described as anything other than perfect.

When he kissed her gently and slowly, as if she was made of glass, Lif could taste her sweetness on his lips. He pulled away and looked down at her quivering eyes.

"See I can give you beautiful things," he grinned and kissed her on her brow.


	9. Family ties

**Yeah guys this chapter is really just a prelude to the next Big one. where we see Thorin get protective, horny, dressed up and in a fight. Not necesarily in that order. -BADPENNY**

Thorin rubbed his eyes and allowed himself to yawn. It was still early and the sun was barely dawning over the horizon but he carefully pulled himself free of Lif's sleepy embrace and kissing her gently on the shoulder, got out of bed to go and get dressed.

Lif mumbled and tried to hold onto him but Thorin smiled and pushed her back to the bed, pulling the blankets around her. He hadn't meant to spend the night but sleep had taken him. The mountain was very much still asleep, the smell of stale mead filled the corridors, and many would be suffering from the wine sickness this morning so Thorin doubted he'd meet anyone on the stairs or in any of the usually busy corridors.

He entered Durin's hall from the side entrance and slipped in silently, as he'd thought none of the servants were up this early, and went straight to his room. It was cold and pale and dull: Thorin sighed heavily and stood reluctantly in the door way. It was as if he was living two lives; one bright with life and colour and love and laughter; the other draining and cold and full of consequences; which one seemed realist and which one was the shadow on the wall?

He shunned the cold thoughts and stepped into his room, meaning to take a bath before breakfast. Lif's bath was comfortable and large however she had a terrible habit of joining him, it was a pleasant distraction, but right now he couldn't afford such pleasantries.

"Really Thorin sleeping walking are we?" Dis's voice cut through the silence of the room like a knife. She sat on a chair in the corner of the room, cloaked in shadow, her blue eyes shone piercingly out of the darkness. Thorin jump at her words and recoiled, dragging back the curtain to cast light into the room. Dis sat tense as if a cat ready to spring, she eyes were fixed on his, her arms crossed over her chest and her foot tapped impatiently on the floor.

"Dis, what in Durin's name are you doing here?" Thorin asked desperately, trying not to look guilty.

"I could ask you the same question brother?" She stood suddenly and advanced on him, crossing the room in two strides and halting inches from him, staring up at him challengingly. Thorin panicked, as if all words disappeared from his mind, he stared blankly trying to think of some excuse.

"I…I was…walking," Thorin stumbled over the words, gulping air trying to keep and straight face as his younger sister stared up at him her hands on her hips. She looked more like Frerin than he did. Her hair was long and golden, pushed to a side with emerald clasps that set of her brilliant blue eyes, it tumbled down onto her shoulders with a gentle curl. Her figure was like many dwarf women, burly and strong, she was only just smaller than Thorin but quite a bit bigger than Lif.

"Walking?" She said sarcastically, pulling back and cocked her arched eyebrow incredulously. Thorin shifted uncomfortably, looking away from his younger sibling. She had always been strong and fiery, when they were children Frerin and he would tease her to see who could get her most angry; on more than one occasion she'd given them black eyes.

"Yes walking. It's a free mountain," Thorin said defensively, moving to the door as if to hold it open for her. She didn't move, but maintained her piercing glare.

"Then tell me Oh wise one! Why has your bed not been slept in or why you didn't return to your chambers after the meeting with Thranduil?" She shouted accusingly, jabbing her finger at him. Thorin paled and swallowed the feeling of nausea that rose in his stomach.

"You've been here all night?" Thorin stated void of emotion, closing the door behind him and leaning back against it, his head titled down towards the floor. All was lost, they had been discovered through his own carelessness, he should have been prepared but he wasn't.

"Thorin, what's going on?" Dis's voice was gentle now; she moved to her brother's side and pulled his sagging body into a hug. Stroking her hand through his hair as she had done when their mother had died or when he'd had a fever. She took his hand and led him to the bed, sat him down and brought him a cold cloth to wash his face and neck, then pushed a glass of wine into his hands. She sat on the floor at his feet and waited for him to speak. Thorin sucked in a steadying breath and looked down at his sister's expectant face.

"Dis, I don't know how to explain myself. I give you permission to go to father if you wish, If I was in your shoes I would do the same," he spoke gently, curling his fingers under his chin. "I find myself in an impossible position. I have somehow gained the love of an honour, loyal woman but have never been more alone." His words were simple and plain, Dis would have clapped her hands together and laughed with delight but Thorin's sombre face quelled her spirits.

"But Thorin, surely why have you not presented her, if you love her father will consent you to marry…" her voice drifted off when she meet Thorin's eyes, they were wretched with grief.

"Father will kill any who he has not chosen himself, he has said as much to me. And even if he didn't wasn't to arrange my marriage, she is not of noble birth. I have arranged it so that no one knows she still in the mountain, in case Father comes looking for her…." Thorin's words were dead in his ears, he was spilling all his fears and it made him feel vulnerable.

"Father would never do such a thing, you are mistaken…" Dis sucked in a hiss and but recoiled as Thorin glare snapped to her.

"He has done worse than you know Dis. Do not take my choice to protect My Pledge as folly. I have ruined her life; I am only trying to keep her alive against father's wrath!" He snarled suddenly at her, his temper flaring like a forges fire. Dis sat silently for a moment and contemplated what he had just said.

"You're pledged?" She asked carefully, not wanting to provoke his anger again. Thorin nodded and ran a hand through his hair, still tangled from Lif's bed. Dis put her head in her hands for a long time, thinking, processing the weight of the words that Thorin had just said. Suddenly she knelt forward and put her chin on Thorin's knee, looking up at her older brother as she had done when she'd been scared of the storm raging outside.

"You put me in a difficult position you know-" she spoke carefully and lightly, keeping her tone and eyes gentle as she spoke to Thorin, "- for one if father finds out not only will you suffer but also Father will ask me why I did not tell him? And then it could be said that I'd helped which you know would ruin my reputation. But you are my brother and I respect you…." She let her words trail off and for half a heart beat Thorin didn't breathe as Dis decided whether Lif were to live or die. "- And I suppose that if I don't mention anything Father will not grow suspicious." Her words were halted as Thorin threw himself at her and swung her into a tight hug. Twirling her round the room: laughing manically. But suddenly, Dis grabbed his ear and twisted viscously.

"But know this Thorin Thetisson Durin, if you are lying to me or aren't more careful or hurt this She-Dwarf there is no mountain you can hide in that will keep you safe." She twisted his ear again and he hissed in pain before she let go. He went to box her ears but she laughed and ducked his blow.

"And of course, since I do a favour for you, you owe me a favour to be named in the future," Dis called shrilly, hopping on his bed and throwing his pillows at him like they were still Dwarrows playing.

"And what favour would that be?" Thorin said ducking another pillow and tossing it at her and as she bounced on the bed. Suddenly she sprang at him from the bed wrestled him to the floor, feathers spilling from the cases and into the air like falling snow. The rolled about laughing, their ribs beginning to hurt, until they lay exhausted on the floor.

"So when can I meet this mystery women?" Dis asked giggling as horror flashed over Thorin's face. "Ha ha! Didn't think that one through did you Oh Great Prince Thorin!" She cackled jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow.

"No, it's not that. It's just I hope I haven't given you any bad ideas," even as Thorin said this, a dark grin curled on Dis's face. One rebel in the family was bad enough. She winked daringly at him. "Don't you dare!" Thorin growled warningly. Dis jumped to her feet and darted to the door. Grabbing the handle, she whirled round to look at her brother on the floor surrounded by feathers.

"And what you going to do to stop me, tell Father? I would love to see you try. You have lost your dominance over me, remember Thorin, you owe me now." And with a wink and a smirk, Dis darted out the door before Thorin could even comprehend what she'd said.

Dread started to sink in and curl in his stomach. As soon as he got one problem sorted another one popped up, he thought dryly getting up off the floor and shaking the feathers from his hair.

"Stupid little sister," he cursed, surveying his ruined bed and blitzed room, then retreated into the bathroom for a calming bath. But his relaxation would not last long, he knew. The Durin's day celebration started today with a masquerade and a large banquet, which was made even more important as they entertained the Dwarves from the Iron Hills in the hope that a peace treaty be signed.

Thorin let out a long shaky breath as he thought of his father's words – "_From now on you only show Karis attention, do you understand me?" _ He would be thrown at her, no matter how she repulsed him. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

**Again hope you are enjoying the wonderfull weather that Britain is having at the moment! Read, review and I'll try to get back to you with a little personal message. **


	10. The tale of the Stag King

**Hello again. This chapter kind of went over what I had intended it to be, probably with a metaphor that went rogue in the middle. Just letting you know, Thorin and Lif are happy families now but I just want to remind you about the nursery rhyme "jack and jill," - "Thorin and Lif went up the hill to fetch a pail of water,**

**Thorin fell down and broke his crown, **

**and Lif came tumbling after!" **

**- Don't get comfortable- this is after all a tragedy!-BADPENNY MUHAHAHAHHA!**

The tale of the stag king and the raven queen

Thorin spent much of the day busy with meetings and arrangements for the Durin's day celebration two days from then. He regretted only being able to have lunch with Lif, he schedule was over booked as it was and he didn't even have time for supper. So as soon as he could he collapsed into his own bed, which was still covered in feathers, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

There was a knock on his door early that morning and he arose to a message from his grandfather. He was summoned to an early breakfast with Thror in his private chambers. Shaking himself awake, Thorin realised it was only just past dawn and the sun was still rising. He dragged a hand through his wavy black hair and changed, then ran up Durin's stairs into his grandfather's halls.

At the doorway he met Dis. She stumbled about still half asleep with hand maidens still doing her hair and arranging her skirts. She never had liked mornings, Thorin noted in amusement as she yawned and bumped into the doorway.

"Full of joys of dawn I see!" Thorin exclaimed loudly, enjoying how she winced when he clapped his hands together over cheerily. Dis grimaced and made a ssshing movement with her hand.

"Don't speak to me before ten o'clock, that is the rule," she whispered, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. Thorin snorted and pushed his younger sister in to the small lounge. Thror and Thrain were there already and sat quietly around a round table in front of a roaring fire. Platters had been set out with freshly baked pastries, fried bacon, warm bread rolls and frothy hot milk.

"Good morning my King. Good morning Father." Thorin and Dis said in unison, bowing and curtsying at the door. Thror smiled over a mug of hot milk and gestured for them to sit, Thrain appeared not to notice that his children had entered. Dis and Thorin sat opposite each other and began to tuck into the food laid out. Dis chose a dainty pastry while Thorin went straight for the bacon. It was a few moments before anyone spoke, then Thror cleared his throat.

"I shall be still in council with Thranduil today, the Greenwood is beginning to occupy my time a lot these days but not so much that I can't enjoy time with my family," Thror remorsefully at first but turned his eyes up to meet them, letting a glimmer of a smile tug behind his grey beard.

"What happens in the Greenwood that worries the elf so?" Thorin asked, wiping milk foam from his beard. Thror looked up from his plate and met is grandson's eyes, they had the same blue intensity of his own, clever and bright, they had a liveliness that Thrain's didn't have. Thror looked away suddenly, turning to smile down the table at Dis and Thrain.

"But this is no type of talk to have at the breakfast table! Children use today to rest, so that you're fit and strong for the Mask tomorrow," Thror chuckled folding a slab of bread and lashings of bacon into a sandwich.

"But there is still much to be done, they should not be wasting their time on frivolities," Thrain spoke suddenly and coolly. He ate nothing but sipped a goblet filled with ice water.

"Yes, I do not mind doing the organising," Dis tried to catch a smile from Thrain but he wouldn't meet her eye. Thorin glanced away, Thrain had always had little time for Dis and even when he did he was always full of criticism, but she adored him none the less.

"No, I will not hear of it. Balin is proving himself quiet capable, let him take up some responsibility," Thror assured them, pulling a few crumbs of bread from his long white beard. Dwalin's brother had recently been taken on as an advisor to the council as he had almost doubled his families merchant business, they were quickly becoming to most wealthy family in the mountain: apart from the Durin's of course.

Thorin's mind was a whirl. The whole day with not a care, with no jobs he was putting off or bad excuses, he had the whole day to spend with Lif and he couldn't think of anything better.

"What will you do with your free time?" He heard Thror ask, Dis opened her mouth to speak but Thorin kicked her hard under the table.

"Dis needed to go into Dale. You said you needed new silk for your Durin's day costume, didn't you?" He glared at her as he asked her pointedly, hoping she would understand the hidden meaning of his words. Dis stared blankly for a moment, a strawberry tart halfway to her lips.

"Yes, absolutely! Silk for my costume, defiantly from Dale, the best there is..." She rambled until thankfully Thrain interrupted her.

"Whatever you dress as, just make sure that Lord Vanir likes it. You are to make him feel **_very _**welcome, do you hear me Dis?" Thrain ordered coldly, as he glared at his youngest child. Thorin's heart clenched as he saw his sister recoil slightly and nod. Thorin chastised his own selfishness; Dis was in a worst position than him, least Karis was his own age. Lord Vanir was old, fat and lecherous, during banquets he was pull serving girls onto his lap and try and unlace their dresses while they struggled. It made Thorin's skin crawl to think of Dis having to suffer that.

The rest of breakfast past without incident, Thror had been in a good mood and talked lightly, Thrain was brooding as always and the Durin children listened attentively before they were able to excuse themselves. Once outside, Dis waited until they were around the corner to pin her brother to the wall.

"What in Durin's name are you playing at? I don't need to go to Dale?" Her brilliant blue eyes danced angrily as her brothers face slowly turned into a cheeky grin.

"No you don't need to go into Dale, but you do want to meet my Pledge..." He let his voice trial off as he pushed his sister away playfully and dashed down the staircase. Dis stood puzzled for a moment, and then as his meaning dawned on her she chased after him before he got out of sight. **

* * *

Lif hovered her paint brush over the canvas and studied the raven in front of her. Roäc posed proudly, his chest pushed out and his jet black wings extended as if in flight, contrasting alarmingly with the snow under his feathers. Lif swiped teal and dark purple over the pictures feathers, and then hummed with discontent.

"I will never do you justice Roäc, it appears you are too beautiful to capture with paints," Lif said, peering at the Raven King around the aisle. Roäc hopped over to her and landed lightly on her shoulder, being careful not to dig his claws into the fabric of her shirt. The snow had fallen heavily and sudden, reaching past her ankles, so Lif had taking to wearing a pair of Thorin's trousers and tucking the overwhelming fabric into her boots.

"You do Roäc great honour," he cawed and peering down at the painting, rustling his feathers and tickling her neck.

"No Roäc that's supposed to be a tree."**

* * *

Thorin and Dis watched from them both through the porch doors of the kitchen, the glass was frosted over slightly and condensation fogged up the glass but they pressed their noses against the window and studied they distant figure, swathed in a fur mantle and boots.

"Why is she dressed like a man?" Dis asked snootily, cocking her arched eyebrow at Thorin dubiously.

"Don't look at me like that! She just prefers it when the weather is cold. But don't say anything, do you understand me? Be nice," he warned, turning to his sister and looking down sternly at her. "I am serious here Dis, do not worry her or make her anxious about her appearance, or mention father, or the Mask Ball and above all don't bring up the Arkenstone. Are we clear?"

"I am not Dwalin damn it! Relax. I will be charming as always," Dis made to open the door but Thorin pushed in front of her.

"That is what I am afraid of," Thorin said under his breath and swung open the door. "Lif, come inside, I have a surprise for you!" He called to her, his breath escaping from his lungs a cloud of smoke as the cold air hit his skin. Lif looked round and beamed at him. It seemed an age since she had seen him last but in reality it had only been yesterday, though in the winter mouths the ravens grew restive and were confined to the mountain because of the arctic winds blasting the icy peak. Collecting her aisle and mentally noting to burn her terrible painting, she carefully walked back to her chamber with Roäc still perched on her shoulder.

Stepping in the warmth and closing the door behind her, she carefully set Roäc down on the table and shrugged off her mantle, hanging on one of the hooks she'd fixed to the side of the door. Thorin stepped close to her and she caught his cheeks in her hands, laughing as he hissed at their coldness.

"You are freezing. Lif you will catch a cold in this weather if you are not careful, what would I do if you got ill!" Thorin warned, capturing her fingers and blowing warm air on them.

"Aye, but I have you to warm me up My Love," she smirked suggestively and pulled him by his braids into a deep kiss. Thorin growled and kissed her back, wrapping her cold body against his, until someone cleared their throat: Lif froze as still as a statue. Thorin chuckled in frustration and stepped reluctantly away, presenting Dis with a dramatic sweep of his hand.

"Lifrasir, may I present my younger sister Dis," he said in a business like tone, enjoying how both women's faces were a mixture of shock and awe. Suddenly Lif wheeled on him and elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"You didn't say you were bringing your sister! I'm wearing your trousers for Aüle sake! Could you not have warned me?!" Lif peevishly, trying to flatten her messy hair. "Is he always this forgetful? I would have made something special if had known you were coming ," Lif turned to Dis, who snorted with laughter.

" Oh! You should have seen him when he was a Dwarrow! There was this one time when..."Dis exclaimed, immediately warming to Lif's outlandish behaviour. Thorin cringed inwardly as he imagined all the embarrassing Dwarrow stories that were about to come out, but luckily that was when Dwalin fell through the main door with only one shoe on and his cloak tangled around his head.

"Lif, why do you insist on having no boots on in the house?! Dwarves are bloody supposed to be mucky and that is how we'll stay!" Dwalin growled and sprang to his feet, attacking the tangled cape round his head. Thorin and Lif howled with laughter and Dis giggled prettily, blushing gentle pink under her golden hair. The blood drained from Dwalin's face when he saw Dis, his mouth gaped like a fish gasping for air and his hand groped for something to hold himself up with.

"My lady Dis, my apologies I...I..." He was half bowed half bent, looking painfully like he'd got gas, as he stumbled over his words.

"Hot cider anyone?" Lif exclaimed loudly, clapping her hands together as the party shouted merrily in agreement, or cawed in Roäc's case.

"Shall I ring for your maid?" Dis offered brightly, looking around the kitchen area for a bell or a pull. Lif snorted with mirth and looped her arm around Dis' narrow waist.

"Little Sis, me and you clearly grew up on different sides of the mountain. Have you never made hot cider before?" Lif asked, her green eyes twinkling as Dis shrugged and shook her head in naive innocents. Lif took Dis' soft hand, led her over to the oven and began instructing her in the higher arts of cider.

And so the day passed. And for Thorin, he would remember it for all time because it the day that he was truly at peace. The people he loved most were enjoying the warmth of the same hearth and the gentle sound of their own chatter. Lif pulled the sofa close to the fire and dragged blankets and pillows from the bed, arranging them on the floor. Dis was more than happy to curl up on the blankets but Dwalin protested and Bow and Dis ended up snuggled on the sofa, Thorin resting his head against Lif's knee, his eyes growing lazy in the warm heat of the dancing fire.

"Liffy, what's this?" Dis asked curiously, leaning over to the table and picking up one of the old scrolls she had requested from Thorin to bring from the main library. The scroll was almost falling apart and crumbling, matchstick like scribbles faded with age.

"It's one of the ancient legends about how the mountain was born, hasn't been read in centuries , because it's written in ancient Khuzdul but it was okay for a bit of light reading," Lif said absently, drawing circles on Thorin's neck with her fingertip.

"You can read it?" Dwalin asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes with his fist, and Thorin tilted his head back to look at her.

"Of course I can read it, why can't you?" Lif stared bewildered as the group all shook their heads. "Well that is something we shall have to remedy."

"Can you read it to us?" Dis asked hopefully, as if asking for a bed time story. Lif cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably as her friends turned to look at her.

"I am not the best reader, it will sound dull," she assured them, feeling bad as Dis' face dropped. But still the young She-dwarf persisted.

"I am sure it won't, what if Thorin plays while you read?" Dis assured her, bouncing on the sofa lightly in excitement. Lif glanced at Thorin conspirativly; he blushed scarlet and looked away.

"You play?" Lif asked gently, leaning in to kiss the prince's brow. He didn't reply but Lif could tell from the small grin that curled his cheeks that Dis was right.

"Yes, he plays the harp excellently! I will be back before you know it!" Dis exclaimed bashing out the house without even putting on her boots. A silence fell upon them as Dis slammed the door behind her; Lif cleared her throat suddenly and spoke.

"Is anyone hungry?" Lif asked lightly, Thorin nodded and smiled, Dwalin agreed loudly. "Good me too and while I'm doing that, Thorin My Love, you can talk to Dwalin," she chuckled and moved about the kitchen.

"Talk to me about what?" Dwalin asked loudly, confusion twisting his features.

"About how you just Wuv' Dis!" Lif giggled with glee as her old friend's face turned bright red.

"Is it really that obvious?" Dwalin asked Thorin tentatively, avoiding his blue eyed stare as he looked into the fire.

"Dwalin, my friend, my sister is many things but perceptive she is not, though anyone with half a brain can see it." Thorin said gently, smiling a little as the warrior blushed deeply under his Mohawk.

"But sometimes it's too hard to find half a mind when you need one!" Lif called from the larder.

"You can say that again," Dwalin growled low and cold, growing angry with frustration, his knuckles clenched white and his nails bit into his hand. "I am jealous of you Thorin, look what you've got; not just the royal bloodline, or the ability to lead, but you've got what you couldn't have and somehow everything's worked out okay. How do you manage it?" Dwalin looked almost too desperate; his hot whiskey eyes searched Thorin's face for answers, until Lif rapped him on the back of the head with her ladle.

"Enough of that, he doesn't know, I don't know and you certainly don't know. The only thing I can tell you is that fate is a bitch and she creeps up on us sooner or later. The only choice you really have in life is whether she's cold or hot, your choice?" Lif nodded with her stern words and stood with her hands on her hips. Dwalin snapped back to his usual self and swore under his breath and Lif handed him a hot bucket of porridge to take for the raven's supper. Thorin got to his feet as his friend left and caught Lif by the waist and pulled her to him.

"I didn't know you were a philosopher?" He asked musingly, running his hands lustily down her sides. Lif grinned and moaned at his touch.

"Yes, didn't you know, my philosophising is famous," she chuckled kissing him, but before they could continue, Dis charged into the house: Thorin's harp in hand. The Prince groaned and decided to quickly escape after Dwalin, darting past his bewildered sister.

"No matter, they will get hungry soon and be back. I am making a pie, shall I show you?" Lif asked Dis, trying to coax a smile from her face that had fallen. For more than an hour Lif laboured to teach Dis how to cook, but she found that the princes was easily distracted and was actually grating on her nerves a little.

"What's this?" Dis asked loudly, picking up Lif's sword and leaving flour covered hand prints over the oiled hilt.

"Don't touch that! It is sharp and Thorin would kill me if you hurt yourself. It is my blade, Demon." Lif replied trying to keep the tension from her voice as she took the weapon off Dis.

"Will you teach me to fight?" Dis asked brilliantly, turning back to rolling out the pastry.

"If you are willing to learn,"- this seemed to quieten her for a few moments before Dis' chatter started again.

"What are you dressing as for the Durin's ball?" Dis asked lightly, watching specs of flour blow in the air.

"I am not going," Lif said simply, flattening down the pastry in the baking tin.

"Why not!" Dis gasped in genuine horror. "Is it because Thorin hasn't asked you because we can presume he just forgot!"

"No no, he asked knows I hate dressing up. He wouldn't want me there anyway," Lif smiled and wiped a smudge of flour from the young She-dwarfs cheek.

"Are you so sure about that? He would want you by his side," Dis said quietly, fixing her with an intense gaze like her brothers. Lif swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat.

"Even if he did, there isn't any way I'd be able to go and not be found out. I am exiled remember?" Lif said, beginning to ladle sweet apple and pork into the pie base.

"We shall see about that..." Dis said; just quiet enough so that Lif didn't hear.

As soon as the pie was out of the oven, Thorin and Dwalin suddenly appeared again. They eat in front of the fire and Dwalin, whose mood had improved, regaled Dis with the story of the Battle of Wood Hill. Dis listened enraptured as she heard how Lif had saved Thorin's life.

"It'll be your turn soon when we get you trained up and I'm sure that Dwalin will be more than happy to teach you?" Lif glanced at Dwalin who struggled to keep his face impassive as Dis beamed at the both of them. Thorin was unhappy about his little sister learning to fight but he didn't want to spoil the evening by voicing his views.

"Now," Dis said once they had finished eating, pushing the old scroll into Lif's hands.

"Now?" She asked in dismay.

"Now!" Dis ordered, in a similar tone to Thorin, and tossing the harp over to the prince.

"Okay but I warn you, I'm no bard! Thorin play whatever you want to drowned out my screeching," Lif assured them, sitting up straight and clearing her voice. She nodded at Thorin who began to sinfully strum his fingers over his harp strings. Lif had to take a calming breath and look away; damn she was actually jealous of a music instrument.

_'"There was once a mighty stag who was king of a noble race. His herd lived in the enchanted forest and grew strong and powerful through its magical power. The deer were twice as big as any Son of man and golden blood ran through their veins. But the stag King, Skinfaxi was the biggest of the all, his antlers were jade and his coat was the deepest burnished gold. But King Skinfaxi was sad. His people grew too many and they were beginning to kill the forest. One day while walking alone, he stopped and sat under a great oak tree and sighed-" _

"Why was he sad?" Dis asked suddenly, Lif jumped and Thorin twanged his strings. Dis and Dwalin sat in front of them, enraptured by every word.

"Sshh! You'll have to wait and see," Thorin said playfully, grinning at the figures on the floor, and continued his gentle music.

_"-and he sighed deeply and mournfully. "What ails you my prince?" A voice spoke. Skinfaxi looked around but could see no one. "What ails you my prince?" The voice said again, this time Skinfaxi saw a huge black raven peering down at him. The raven bowed to the King and Skinfaxi bowed to the raven. _

_"Alas, my golden heart is heavy! My kin are growing too many but our bodies are strong like oak and can never die." The raven fluttered down of his branch and settled on the great stag's antlers. _

_"Aye that is poor but I have my own problems. My children have nowhere to live. The enchanted forest is no place for creatures like us." Said Huginn the Raven Queen. _

_"Why so?" Asked Skinfaxi. _

_"You are cloaked in the gold of the sun and us by the moon, we cannot hide in your light, so how may we hunt?" Replied Huginn. _

_"Aye a grave problem indeed," said golden Skinfaxi. When suddenly the great raven let out a caw and fluttered her great black wings. _

_"I can fly your oldest Kin into the sky so that they may be reborn as rain and find peace," exclaimed Huginn. _

_"But what do you want in return for this great gift?" Asked the golden stag. _

_"Find us a home as good as yours," replied the cunning raven. And so it was that every year the raven would fly the heart of the oldest stag into the sky and there they would find peace. But all those years Skinfaxi searched in vain until the year came and it was his time to fly. _

_"Huginn my friend, it is my time to fly but bury my body in the earth and from it will grow a mountain and my blood with run like rivers of gold and the tears of my kin like diamonds. This shall be your home for all time." _

_And so it was that Huginn flew Skinfaxi into the sky and his body grew into a mountain, tall and proud as it had been in life. Skinfaxi's kin did not mourn his passing for they were thankful for the raven's gift and in return gave the Raven kingdom an army of marble dwarves to pay tribute. But with Skinfaxi's magic the marble turned to flesh and the servants fed the Ravens milk and seeds for all time."'_

Lif set down the scroll and watched Thorin as he finished his last note. Dwalin cradled against Dis as they both slept gently. Lif took the harp from her lover's hands and set it down, then laid her head against his chest and slept in his strong arms.

* * *

Bonjour! please review as always. I know this one was odd but Its necessary.

Just FYI, the next installment will be called- Blood at Durin's Ball. ...DUM DUM DUMMMMMMM but will not be posted until after tuesday x


	11. Blood spilled at Durin's Ball

**Oki well this chapter is kind of a Frankenstein's monster, it's got a bit of everything in. Just look out for spelling and grammar, I haven't had a proper chance to proof read yet. And also, can you guess who makes their first appearance in this chap?**

**Blood spilled at the Durin's Ball**

Thorin groaned as his attendants laid out his ceremonial garb. The tunic was dark blue with a white fur trim and woven silver thread embroidered into the stiff collar, an emerald studded silver belt hung loosely from his waist with a ruby inlaid dagger peeking out of a matching sheath, and a mithril shirt shined beneath the deep "V" of his tunic. His hair was tightly braided from his temples and draped with burnished silver clasps. He wore simple moleskin trousers, which tucked into knee high black leather boots, polished so that they shined.

He recoiled when one of the servants tried to dab his cheeks with rogue, snarling and terrifying them into retreat. His temper was terrible today, maybe it was because yesterday had just been so perfect, or maybe it was because yet again he'd had to leave Lif's warm bed to prepare for the evening's festivities. How he longed to have her at his side, to feel her warm skin against his as he entertained the shallow masses, just to hear the noise her skirts made as she walked was enough comfort for him. But she would have none of it, because she was always a practical woman: _"Really, frolicking about in front of the entire mountain. Me! No more than a criminal. Not the wisest decision and besides I wouldn't be able to be near you anyway with the crowds and your duties. But on the bright side, I'll need you even more when you return my Prince." _Her sensible words filled him with both pride and pain; it was a hurtful paradox if lust and duty.

Thorin emptied his goblet of wine and beckoned for another one when there was a gentle knock at the door. Dis entered carefully, manuvering round the edge of the door with a large wooden box in her hands and a mischievous grin on her face.

"Dis why aren't you getting dressed?" Thorin asked, eyeing his sister's dusty dress and dishevelled hair. He ushered away his attendants and gave his rode a final tug before resigning to the fact that he was to be dressed like a peacock whether he wanted to be or not, and turned Dis who faced the bedside table with her back to him.

"Oh shh you! It won't take me long and I can be fashionably late. Besides you're not dressed either," Dis replied absently, trying to catch the latch if the wooden box. Thorin moved to her side and studied the box with interest. "For a Prince cannot go to the Durin's day Mask ball without a mask!" She said in triumph as the box sprang open.

Thorin already had a mask, an intricate golden boar with ruby eyes, but what Dis had far surpassed that in beauty and sentiment. It was a silver stag, simple and faceless; it had a noble quality that could not be expressed in gems. But it was also deadly; the antlers had a sharpened point, which spoke of pride and power. It was as if Lif's story had come to life. It took Thorin's breath away.

Thorin took the mask out of the satin lined box and studied it in front of his eyes. "Dis, where did you get it?" The metal glinted in the orbs of Thorin's iris as he stared at the simplistic beauty.

"In the old store rooms, I knew I'd seen it, but Lif's story reminded me and ...Well, isn't just perfect?"Dis clapped her hands together in glee, rubbing a bit of dirt from the mask with her sleeve.

"But I've already got one, Eitri made it specially, I can't let him down," Thorin said, looking at the mask regretfully. Eitri was a good dwarf and friend, but a better craftsman you could not have, he would be offended if his mask wasn't worn. Dis let out an exasperated tut, taking the mask from Thorin's hands she pushed him in front of the mirror, in a manner not unlike Lif would: It was then that Thorin decided Lif was far too much of a bad influence on Dis.

"I don't know Eitri but I'm sure he won't mind if you give Dwalin your old mask, it actually seems rather fitting," Dis commented matter-of-factly, tugging on Thorin's shoulder so he would bend down a little, and started weaving the silver mask into his hair: so that it rested on his hairline. Dis stepped back and reviewed her work, her hands on her hips, in a very Lif like manner.

"I look like a moose but then again I know won't look the silliest there, speaking of which what are you going as?" Thorin actually didn't hate how he looked. The mask sat comfortably, it was secure but not too tight. Before his tunic seemed too grand but the simpleness of the mask seemed to even him out, even give him an air of majesty. But his thoughts were brought back as Dis jabbed him with her elbow and she ran to the door giggling.

"You'll have to wait and see, won't you?" Dis replied sharply, smirking as Thorin winced from his jabbed rids. She began to pull out the door but Thorin called suddenly.

"Dis wait!" Thorin called, closing the distance between him and the door, placing his hand over young sisters as it rested on the door frame. "Look Dis, about what father said about Lord Vanir. No matter what happens, let your heart be your own, it should not be dictated to you," he said directly, titling her chin up so her bright blue eyes met his. "And if push comes to shove, Lif could always do with an assistant."

Dis chuckled and looked away uncomfortably, blinking back the tears that rested in the corners of her eyes. She swallowed a painful lump in her throat and sucked in a shaky breath. Then she changed subject, her face brightening instantly. "Did I tell you I've been accepted for a Healer's apprenticeship?" Dis clapped her hands together and beamed, she was hiding behind other news to distract herself, and Thorin couldn't blame her.

"Dis Durin the Healer. It has a nice ring to it but remind me never to come to you for medical aid," Thorin smirked and pushed away from the door frame and his room. He heard Dis blow a wet raspberry then the door slam loudly behind her as she left.

The Great Hall had been decorated with even more care than usual for the Durin's day celebration. Two wide tables had been pushed against either side of the hall and covered with every delicacy imaginable, apparently the head chief and Bombur were going on holiday afterwards to recover from the stress. Four extra chandeliers had been rigged and covered in bright green and blue glass to cast brilliant light around the cavernous hall, then draped with brilliant gems on gold thread to help reflect. Children had been occupied for weeks brushing Fools gold dust onto the miles of stonework to make it shine and glimmer in the candle light. Incense was burning in intricately cut burners the size of boulders which swung from the walls, filling the air with chamomile, lily of the valley and sandalwood: the effect was heady and dreamlike, it was as if you were swimming forest of beautiful scents. Heavy forest green silk swags hung from the high vaulted ceiling, causing a riot of colour, and transparent gossamer damask hung like a thin layer of mountain mist in front of the massive iron doors.

But it left a sour taste in Thorin's mouth. Truly the sheer beauty of the Great Hall had taken his breath away and he had stood dumbstruck for some minutes. Then he glanced around looking; looking for someone to share the beauty with, to someone who understood to revel in the splendour, but the person he truly looked for was not there. Lif was not by his side.

The hall was already filled to bursting point with folk of the mountain wearing elaborate masks and costumes, Dain's entourage from the Iron Hills, a large part of aristocracy from Dale and half a dozen remaining elves from Greenwood and last but not least the king himself, Thranduil.

Thorin pushed his way to the high table where Thror's throne had been placed on some high steps. He bowed respectfully to his Grandfather, who was dressed in a cape made of golden feathers with matching eagle mask topped with crown, then took his place to his left just behind Thrain. Thorin's Father looked stern and out of place amongst the frivolities, he wore a brilliant teal and dark turquoise coat made of leather scales and an ornately tooled mask of a sea serpent, it contrasted brilliantly with his greying beard.

"What happened to the mask that Eitri Einskaldison made you?" Thrain asked through his thin lips, leaning back to his son but not turning round as he cast his absent eyes over the thronging crowd.

"Dis thought this one was better suited to me," Thorin said simply leaning towards his father's ear but keeping his movements small in case anyone questioned the conversation.

"Dis needs to learn her place if she wants to please Lord Vanir. What are you supposed to be? The young buck surpassing the old stag?" He asked in a bitter tone, cold and unfeeling, Thorin inwardly shuddered as he heard his father talk about his sister in such a way. Thorin straightened his spine and scanned his eyes over the riotous mass of costumes and outrageous masks.

"I am the Stag King," he mumbled under his breath, drawing the memory of Lif's voice reading the story to his mind. Suddenly there was a great gasp which passed over the hall, carrying over the loud music and up into the royal stand. The heaving crowd parted and Dis ascended the steps, bowing low to Thror and then to Thrain, and then turning back and bowing to the court.

Dressed head to foot in white in a floor length silk gown, her hair was curled into a tight but simple knot and a simple line of white ribbon round her neck. Her mask was a thin line of white lace that tied into a thick bow at the back of her head; she was a vision of radiance, Thorin's chest burned with pride.

"My apologies my King, time ran away from me," she said demurely lowering her head respectfully to Thror who beamed at his granddaughter.

"No need to apologies my dear but pray tell, what have you come as?" Thror inquired taking his granddaughters' hand and twirling her. Dis laid her hand on the Kings arm and turned to the court and raised her voice so that it carried across the hall.

"I am life and death. For both are plain and simple, and but both are intricate as well, white of innocent life which will ultimately be lost in the shadow of night. What better way to praise Mahal for the life the gods have given us?" Her words were strong and sincere, but powerful. The guests shifted and clapped in approval. Dis acknowledge them, embraced her grandfather, then went to pull Thorin into a tight hug.

"Nicely done," Thorin whispered amusingly into her ear as he pressed his cheek against her golden curls, he felt her giggle.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she pulled back and winked mischievously at Thorin. On a holy holiday such as Durin's day no one would dare defile the innocence of the gods; by embodying the Mahal she repelled all Lord Vanir lecherous behaviour without causing offence. And there was nothing he could do about it. Thrain's jaw ticked with silent anger that Thorin was sure would cause repercussions later and Lord Vanir shrugged, taking the advantage to pull one of his female entourage into a shadowy corner.

"People of Erebor," Thror raised stood and raised his hands for silence, "tonight is a special occasion. Not only is it a celebration of our founding father and not only does it mark the passing of yet another prosperous year under the protection of Erebor's thick armour. But tonight, my Friends, it marks the signing of treaty of peace between Erebor and our Kin in the Iron Hills!" As Thror's deep resonating voice rose into a loud crescendo, the hall erupted with cheers and they fell about hugging and laughing, calling for music and dancing.

Thorin offered Dis his arm and led her on the dance floor, whirling in synchronisation with the other couples as the music echoed loud and rhythmically. Thorin watched as his younger sister laughed and beamed, shining with womanly beauty, though he could still see the little girl underneath. All the men watched her with longing, it irked him but he pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on the now. To soon the song ended, they stopped and bowed to one another, Dis delicately curtsying in the courtly manner, trying her slow her panting breath.

"Hell, I've forgotten how much effort it takes not to trip over!" Thorin grumbled in Dis's ear as he led her off the dance floor.

"Don't tell you're tired already, the night it still young!" Dis retorted jabbing him with her elbow.

"Wine, I need wine! Here…" Thorin grabbed the coat of someone passing and pulled him to his side, looping his arm over the dwarf's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Dis I would very much like you to meet Eitri, Eitri this is my…"

"I know Princess Dis…" Eitri said his dark eyes locked with Dis'. "I mean to say, I know of you my lady but have never had the pleasure or the excuse to speak with you myself." The master craftsman smiled warmly, his almost black eyes twinkling with merriment and laughter. He was smaller than Thorin but slightly taller than Dis. He had waves of unruly curly black hair that fell about his face; his beard was drawn into one neat plait. Eitri's costume betrayed his skill as a craftsman; he wore a large lion mask that hid some of his face but its mixture of black and silver only brought out the blush of his merry cheeks and honey coloured tan of his skin.

"So…so you are the one who made that Boar mask?" Dis asked more to herself than anything, her bright blue eyes roamed over the male dwarf's face with hunger, and Eitri pushed back his lion mask to see her better. It was as if Thorin wasn't there at all.

"I did, though I must say it suits Dwalin fair better, I think anyway, have you seen him? He looks fierce and like a warrior," Eitri rambled, his eyes still fixed on Dis as if she was the only one in the room.

"He always looks like that…." Dis began but as Thorin slowly made to edge out of the conversation she grabbed her brother's arm and staring at him with heated intensity. "The Priestess of Muninn is here somewhere. I am sure she will find you. I shall be quite alright on my own. Go." She glanced at Eitri nervously before releasing her brother's arm and turning back to the young male dwarf.

"Right. Could have told me earlier Dis," Thorin grumbled, his mind still reeling. Lif was here, here right now but where? He glanced around the room, trying to pick her form out of the blur of colours. Before moving away he grabbed Eitri's collar and growled low in his ear. "If you dare and make designs on my sister, I will hang you from the balcony… And keep her away from Vanir's men."

Eitri wasn't fazed by Thorin's promise, but in fact he was honoured that Thorin trusted him enough to leave the princess in his care. He beamed manically at Thorin, then offered Dis his arm and said with absurd happiness, "Come my lady, I will show you how a real dwarf dances!" **

Thorin wandered as if in a daze. Colourful costumes and grotesque masks flashed in front of his eyes but he saw no one. The luxurious merriment was stifling, the room too hot and the music too loud. At one point he saw Dain and a group of his companions with their heads bowed deep in conversation, shooting dark glances about the hall. A few minutes later they were gone and Thorin had only eyes for the whirling couple in the middle of the dance floor. Black and white, the lion and the dove, Eitri and Dis made quite a pair. Thorin was happy that his sister was having an evening without the dark shadow of Lord Vanir hanging over her, but at the same time his heart was heavy. Dwalin stood still like a statue of marble, many women approached him and asked him to dance, for he did look impressive in his golden Boar mask and scarlet leather jerkin; but he only had eyes for the princess and the princess didn't have eyes for the warrior.

Dwalin set down his goblet and leant down to whisper something in his brother's ear. Balin nodded and gave Dwalin's shoulder a reassuring shake, and then let him walk out of the hall alone. Thorin was about to go after his friend when a dark figure caught his attention.

Standing halfway between light and shadow she stood just veiled by the long gossamer curtain of the doorway. Lif! He knew her instantly. The dark green satin dress that Thorin had given her hung for her lush curves like water running down the hillside, the ruffled edges pooling a little at her ankles, and the jewelled bodice catching the light and showing a hint of her heaving bosom underneath. Her face was hidden from him as he approached her unseen, a dark mask hid her face with sweeping wings and almond sized eyes, a jewelled beak rose low over her nose and lips.

"Priestess of Muninn, you overwhelm us with your presence this evening," Thorin whispered as he stood in front of her, drinking in the beautiful feel of her presence. Her hair in was intricately woven and draped with black pearls and jet to match the dark purples and greens of her mask.

"I see no Priestess here, I am the Raven Queen Huginn and you are Skinfaxi, and that is how it shall be my prince." Her jade eyes danced and twinkled with amusement, her pink lips curling into a smile under her mask as she bowed to Thorin in the proper manner. Thorin's body screamed for her touch, he couldn't pull her against him or caress her as he wanted, so he chose the next best thing. Catching her wrist in his large hand, he pulled her out of the shadow, through the bustling crowd that parted for him and into the centre of the floor.

"What are you playing at? I can't be seen dancing with you!" Lif whispered frantically as Thorin scooped her into a tight embrace and began to move them around the floor. He didn't care if people were looking or that they were the only couple move twirling around the floor because at that moment Thorin only had eyes for Lif.

"Evening brother, do you mind if we join?" Dis called merrily as Eitri twirled her around the floor and falling into the rhythm of the music. The two couples dance, bathed in music and each other, only mildly aware that others had now joined in the dancing. And that the dance in question would later be renamed as "The Durin's Day Embrace."

Thorin slowed them to a gentle stop in the very middle of the floor, gazing down at her as if blocked off in their own solitary bubble against the outside world. "I thought you didn't want to come?" He asked quietly, his eyes mesmerised by the lips he was forbidden to kiss.

"Dis twisted my arm, she said that one should be by their Soulmates side when they're going through stress," Lif chuckled and shrugged, glancing nervously at the spinning couples around them.

"I am glad you came, I have needed you by my side all evening, do you like it?" Thorin glanced absently away, trying to calm his body as her dress brushed against his legs and the warmth of her body scorched him.

"Truthfully, I ...I hate it," Lif let out a long and unhappy sigh, wanting desperately to lean against his warm chest. Thorin chuckled low in his throat and leaned in close, inhaling her almondy scent.

"Me too, do you want to make a quick exit?" Thorin asked mischievously. Lif struggled to hide a grin.

"Great minds alike my Prince, but don't you have stay?" The priestess asked, squeezing his hands. Thorin actually looked around, studying the room properly for the first time that evening. They were falling over themselves with drink, Thror and Thrain were busy entertaining Thranduil, Dain's folk were having a heated drinking competition and Dis and Eitri were dancing dangerously close to each other.

"I don't think I'll be missed, but to be on the safe side meet me in the Ancestors hall in fifteen minutes," Thorin said, barely able in contain the wanton need that washed over him.

"Fifteen minutes is an awfully long time..." Lif said her eyes flashing with lust.

"Fine, ten then," Thorin whispered as he pressed his lips to her knuckles and stepped away from her reluctantly. She curtsied and retreated through the twirling crowd of dancers. Thorin dare not watch her go, for he knew he would want to chase after her.

The song ended and he somehow found himself at one of the long food tables, a goblet of wine held in his hand, counting the minutes impatiently.

"I should have come here sooner, I never realised the Erebonian She-dwarves were such fun sport," Dain's drool voice called out loudly behind Thorin, he calmed his temper before turning to his distant cousin. Dain's ratty face was pink with booze and so were his entourage that stood just behind his shoulder, his arms were crossed over his pigeon chest, and he grinned leeringly at the female guests who passed by.

"Is that so Dain? I never considered them to be game animals before," Thorin tried to keep his voice light and welcoming, though inside he churned with the longing to break Dain's nose once again: the old bruises that Thorin had given Dain had started to heal and turn yellow, giving his face an odd tinge.

"Why is that Thorin? Never hunted down a young Doe before or broken in a new filly? It's all in the hunt, to stalk and wear in a firm young thing. Ain't that right Hurla?" Dain's thick voice sloshed lustily over the words as he chuckled along with his cronies. Thorin felt a wave of nausea hit him. "We are the hunters, to good hunting men!" Dain toasted and then group drank deeply from their cups. Thorin should have walked away but he didn't, he spoke before he knew what he was doing.

"Then you have obviously never had a woman, not including your warm hand on a cold night, for it is clear you do that a lot. But no She-Dwarf would ever be hunted like game, no! In Erebor a woman is the dagger in the dark and the men are the willing victims. But if it is as you say, then clearly only the She-dwarves in Erebor are such a calibre or maybe it says more of the honour of our warrior's hearts!" Thorin's stinging words rushed out of him like a wave crashing against rocks, Dain paled and his men cowered behind him. Before they could recover themselves, Thorin turned on his heel and stalked away, darting in and out of the revellers, making sure that no one had followed him out.

Parting the gossamer curtain of the main door, Thorin paused again, pressing his back to the cold stone, catching his breath and waiting in trepidation: But no one came out, except drunken party goers and giggling couples. When he was sure the coast was clear, he darted into the shadows and made his way into the Ancestors Halls. **

The Ancestors Halls were eerily quiet compared with the raucous noise of the man hall. It was hallowed ground in honour of the forefathers, stone statues of each passing king was erected here, to stand for all time watching the passing years of the mountain. The hall had no fire or torches hanging from the walls, four long windows cast long silver moon beams across the floor, but the corners were still shrouded in shadow.

The large oak door thudded as Thorin closed it behind him and slid the latch securely across, pressing his back against the wooden his eyes searched the dark for a glimmer of fabric or the shadow of a figure. His footsteps echoed and he slowly walked into the centre of the chamber, so that rays of moonlight silhouetted him against the darkness of the room.

Thorin hissed suddenly as he felt a firm hand pressing against the bottom of his spine and running up sinfully slowly until he could press his head back against the open palm that ran through his hair.

"You're late," Lif whispered, turning Thorin's head to her eyes. The raven mask was tilted up of her face so that the moonlight hit her face, giving her an almost ghostly white glow, as the blackness of her dark costume contrasted with her skin. Thorin turned fully to her and gently pulling her hand from his hair, nuzzled his lips into her cool palm.

"I got caught up with Dain," he whispered into her skin, drawing warmth and comfort from the rough palm, and just revelling in her presence.

"You are a tease to keep me waiting," Lif's voice was like syrup running over his skin, her jade eyes flashed with excitement as she pulled her hand out over his grip and ran her hands up his chest until they looped around his neck. Thorin stood in amazement as she pressed her body in him, his mind engulfed with desire and heat. Lif laid her head tenderly against his chest. "I feel like I haven't seen you in days," Lif murmured, holding him tighter. Thorin wrapped his arms around her and cradled her head to him, a painful guilt weighing on his chest, in truth his mind had been elsewhere.

Suddenly Lif shifted to look at him, her eyes quivering in the pale moonlight. "Menu tessu," she whispered against his lips, parting them until their mouths worked seamlessly together; Thorin's hands running over her back and sides and then her breasts which heaved in the confines of her bodice. Lif gasped as Thorin brushed his teeth against the hollow of her neck and pressing his hardened body in hers. Heat rushed wildly through them both like an avalanche of snow, growing with intensity and ferocity until they couldn't control themselves.

Letting out an animal growl Thorin cupped Lif's rear and ground his hips against hers, she hissed and tugged at the laces of his tunic, while they both stumbled backwards into the far wall. Their bodies moved flawlessly together, rocking in perfect synchronisation, moving as one as they had on the dance floor.

The stone wall was rough but this raw sensation only pulled Lif higher. Thorin's weight was sinfully good, engulfing her with heat and pleasure as his mouth worked every corner of her mouth; her neck, and as he let out a feral growl, tore away the laces of her bodice and bite into her nipple, Lif cried out and arched her back in pleasure. Her fingers fumbled but she managed to pull his mouth up to meet hers by pulling his hair, hissing against his heated flesh, Lif growled in frustration as she tried to unfasten the buckle of Thorin's sword belt.

Thorin hummed in pleasure as Lif eventually undid the clasp and ran her cool hands over his throbbing length, teasing moans from his throat. Lif worked him with clever hands until Thorin caught her wrists and pinned her hands to the wall with frightening power and strength.

"I am in no mood to be teased," he growled in her ear, sending deep vibrations down into her body. Before she knew what was happening, Thorin gathered her in his strong arms and a held her as if she was made of paper; she was at his mercy. He ran his hand up her thighs and sank his fingers into her without a moment's pause; Lif cried out and shuddered at the feel of his hands. Lif bucked against his hands and gasped desperately when he drew away, she panted and looked at him with lost eyes.

"Thorin, please don't stop now..." Lif whispered throatily, her entire body shook as pleasure rocked her again. Thorin watched mesmerised by her quivering jade eyes, her flushed complexion, and her expression of desperate desire but most of all her pink wet lips the begged to be claimed. His lips found hers, kissing her roughly as he plunged to the hilt into her wet heat.

He thrust as an unrelenting pace, slamming into her body like a wave on a cliff, her skin was raw from the stone wall behind her but it was a good pain. Lif tried not to whimper Thorin's name but the words escaped her lips before she was aware of it. His fingers dug painfully into her hips while he suddenly bit viciously down shoulder, making her gasp in pain and pleasure.

Thorin's pace grew erratic but Lif met him stroke for stroke, her nails scoring down his chest, building them both higher, until the pleasure was too much. They came together; Lif quivered and bite her lip to stop herself screaming in orgasm, the metallic blood on her tongue. Thorin too pushed his mouth hard against Lif's skin, drunk on her taste, her feel, her scent; he was like a mad man losing control, he feared what he'd do if her didn't retain control after wave upon wave of exquisite pleasure hit him.

They stood for a moment, both panting, trying to catch their breath. Their bodies stills joined, Thorin gained enough control of himself to look at Lif. Her face was flushed pink and her wet lips parted as she continued to gasp for air.

"Are you alright?" Thorin whispered, as he gently began re-lacing the front of her bodice with trembling fingers. She smiled dreamily and tried to stretch her shoulders but winced, her neck was red and sore, bruising was even beginning to blossom in this poor light. "I was too rough." He growled, guilt gnawing in his belly, he ran his thumb soothingly over the bruising then began to shift out of her. Bit Lif stilled him and framed his face with her hands.

"You... you were perfect my Stag King," she glanced up and smiled at the silver mask and laid a light kiss on its muzzle. By some miracle both their masks had actually staid in place. Then kissed him lightly on the lips, before tilting her hips and letting him withdraw from her; Thorin's warmth left her and her knees sagged as his strength left her as well. "But I doubt whether I'll be able to sit for a while."

Thorin chuckled and pulled her into his arms, tucking her head under his chin, and laying a kiss into her hair. "Well we can certainly say that the Ancestors have never seen that before," he said lightly, glancing at the statues of his ancestors. Thorin felt Lif smile while her fingers drew lazy circles on his chest.

"You'll need to get back soon?" Thorin heard her asked quietly, her voice muffled in his tunic. He held her closer.

"Yes. I will be expected to make sure everything has gone smoothly and that Dis has got to bed," he grew tired just thinking about it. Lif pulled out of his arms and straightened her dress as best her could, one of her sleeves was torn and some of her braids had come undone.

"Will you be coming home tonight?" She asked quietly, reaching up and cupping his warm cheek with her hand. He nodded silently but smiling at the thought of having a warm inviting home to have at the end of an evening. Lif pulled back and made for the door, before glancing back at him. "I love you so much Thorin, I really do." Her words were simple but they made his heart swell even more.

Thorin watched Lif go; she disappeared out the door and into the shadows, moving out of sight. He let out a long sigh and started back toward the loud frivolities but a shoulder ploughed into him and the wind was knocked out of him.

"Mind where you're going," he snapped irritably, not looking at the dwarf who had knocked into him.

"Well well, looks like our search is over, Dain he's over here!" The Dwarf looked Thorin up and down in an insolent manner before calling of his Kinsmen over his shoulder. Thorin cursed himself; he should have turned him back and kept walking, he should have apologised for what he said, but he didn't. Still basking in the glorious afterglow of lovemaking, he was high on adrenaline and his temper snapped like a thin twig.

Dain rounded the corner, a group of six or seven other dwarves at his heels, all grinning like the idiots they were. Dain stood before his cousin, a little bit smaller than Thorin; he tilted his head up and grinned at him his hands on his hips. "It appears we have some unfinished business to do. You offered us insult and you know you must suffer the repercussions," Dain said with slimy bravado, trying to make himself sound regal in front of his companions.

"That I do but it doesn't change the fact that it's true," Thorin retorted his anger flaring dangerously at Dain's insolent behaviour.

"Then I suggest we settle this as Dwarves but let us go somewhere more private, wouldn't want people to think we'd violated the peace treaty already," Dain grinned darkly, then turned away, indicating that he should follow. Not that he had much choice; during their brief conversation Dain's men had surrounded him, and now shoved him roughly on the back making him stumble forward. He knew what was to come and cursed himself for his bad temper. Dain chose a dark corridor that was a dead end, he laughed loudly as it was out of ear shot of the hall as Thorin was thrown roughly against the wall.

"So, let me guess, I let you beat me bloody or you run to your father saying that I've violated the treaty?" Thorin straightened his spine and glared at the rat faced dwarf. Dain's grin grew with dark malice as he nodded to two of his friends; they grabbed him roughly and wrenched his arms behind his back, enjoying how he winced as his shoulders protested.

"Something along those lines..." Dain said lightly, nodding to another dwarf who then stepped forward in front of Thorin. He was a hulking figure, bigger that Dwalin, with ham sized fists: he leered down at him for a moment before slamming his hand into Thorin's face.

Technically it was an act of war but if it came to light that Thorin had been the first to insult then a feud would soon begin, the peace treaty would end before it had begun and both clans would be plunged into bloodshed and chaos.

Thorin spat out a mouthful of blood and suppressed a hiss of pain, tried to shake the ringing from his ears, and glared back at Dain. His cousin laughed and jeered. "Not so tough now you haven't got a sword in your hand," he smirked, laughing at his own joke.

"Says the dwarf who only fights when it's six against one," Thorin growled, spitting blood at Dain's feet. Dain paled and his face contorted with anger, he snarled an order at his men and then sprang forward, raining blows upon Thorin's face and body. His mask was pulled viscously away, ripping out some of his hair. At some point he was allowed to fall to the floor and the kicking began.

"Wait!-" Dain's voice called out, his men paused and Thorin sensed the dwarf approach but could not see for the blood running freely into his eyes. "- tell us her name?" His voice droll and mocking as he peered down at Thorin's prone figure. Thorin's mouth grew dry, a wave of panic hit him, not that he was being beaten but for his secret.

"Whose name?" He managed to say, making his voice sound weaker than it really was. In truth Frerin and he had got worse injuries whilst play fighting but he kept hidden strength out of sight.

Dain and his companions laughed darkly; bending over Thorin he met his eyes and said "the one dressed as the raven. If the women of Erebor are as fine as you say, then why don't we start with her? I'm sure the little whore won't mind, of course we'll all have a turn..." Thorin's rage blocked out the rest of Dain's word, adrenaline rushed wildly through his veins, almost blind in anger Thorin snatched Dain's throat and in one clean flowing movement had him pinned to the ground, with his palm pressing dangerously down on his windpipe. Dain's wheezed and turned an odd shade of purple, his entourage started forward suddenly but Thorin shot them a warning glance.

"Anyone moves and I snap his neck," he growled dangerously before turning his attention back to Dain, "you ever come near me again or Erebor again I'll snap your neck like a chicken. Treaty or no treaty, no one threatens one of her citizens in front of me." Thorin glanced down at Dain's breeches where a dark wet stain was spreading down the pant leg. Thorin grinned with dark amusement. "Of course, we could all forget this ever happened or I might let slip that you pissed yourself like a Dwarrow. Your choice?"

Dain turned an odd shade of mottled purple, both burning red with shame, but paling at Thorin's threat. Thorin sank his fingertips hard into the dwarfs flesh as Dain nodded in agreement; rising to his feet he walked away, grinding his teeth against the pain of his body. He refused to let himself limp or sag, he waited until he out of sight of Iron Hills clan that he sank against a stone wall and steeled himself against the pain, sucking in a determined breath he pushed himself to his feet and slowly stumbled away from the celebrations and struggled up the narrow staircases and hallways to the rookery at the top of the mountain.

He fumbled in the dark to find the secret entrance and left a smear of blood over the stone work of the narrow corridor. The ravens were asleep and not even Roäc noticed him shuffle pass. At Lif's door however he paused trying to clear his spinning head, but it was no good, the world spun from the effort of making the journey up the mountain and he collapsed into the door at the same very moment that Lif opened it.

"What in Durin's name?!" Lif gasped as he sprawled on the floor. At first she thought he was drunk but blood smeared of his face onto the welcome mat. "Dear Aüle, what happened?" She sank to her knees , ignoring the blood that stained her white nightgown and tried to turn him over but Thorin pushed himself to his knees.

"I'm alright, just give me a minute," he tried to reassure her but his lip had swollen making it difficult to talk. Lif's anxiety didn't waver; she helped him to the sofa and laid soft pillows under his head, then ran off to grab a bottle of Dittany from the bathroom and whiskey from the kitchen. She kneeled next to his head and dabbed some Dittany onto a cotton cloth, cleaning his cut lip and eyebrow.

"Tell me you're not drunk?" She asked with disapproval and he shielded his eyes with his arm.

"Oh Lif, I wish it was that simple..." and so he told her about the confrontation with Dain at the beginning of the evening and then being corralled into a corner, he watched her closely when he mentioned his threat to her and the concluded with Dain agreeing to the terms of silence. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his bruised shoulders and all he wanted to do was to fall in bed with Lif and sleep until mid afternoon . "But all is well, I straightened things out." He finished his story and looked at her, but all the warmth and the cheer suddenly left him.

Lif stood like a pillar of marble, her arms crossed over her chest and her back to him, tension radiating from her. "Lif?" Thorin asked, wincing slightly as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"How dare you." Thorin heard her say, before she turned to him, her eyes shining in anger and her fists clenched. "How dare you gamble like that? You could have thrown the entire mountain into war, created a blood feud, surely you know what could have happened if you'd accidentally killed him or you were caught: you could have signed the death warrants for hundreds of lives..."

"They threatened you, I was only protecting..." Thorin tried to calm her and explain but she silenced him with a cold hard glare.

"So what?! You were protecting me when you should have been thinking of the good of the people. Would you really go to war over the words of an adolescent dwarf who was probably just drunk and showing off?" She asked incredulously, she eyes bright and determined as she studied Thorin's battered face. Thorin couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth, he'd been doing right by her and she was anger about it?

"Dain won't say anything about tonight..." Thorin began but Lif was still too angry to let him calm her fury.

"He may not but you have now lost a valuable ally, what if in the future when Dain is king of the Iron Hills we need aid? What shall we do then?" Lif had began to pace in front of Thorin, her arms wrapped around herself, her voice had fallen from a shout to a sombre tone, which to Thorin shook him even more than shouting. She stopped and held her head in her hands for a second before pushing the bottle of Dittany into his hands and retrieving a blanket from the bed and wrapping it about her shoulders.

"Keep applying that until the bleeding stops, it will help the swelling go down," Lif said void of emotion as she made for the door.

"Where are you going?" Thorin heard himself say as he tried to push himself of the sofa. Lif turned back to him, her face confused and pale with anxiety, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

"Thorin I need time to think, on my own. I am not mad, though I know I sound it, but I've just realised something. We got this all wrong, your father worries about your ability to marry and the continuation of the royal line, and you're worried about any family retaliation against me. But we got it wrong; I have ruined your ability to think of the people, I have changed you. For good or bad, I cannot tell," she paused and caught her breath. "The old Thorin would have been beaten and protected the treaty of peace at all cost, I know but now you have different loyalties to those you had." Lif kept her eyes to the floor and pulled her blanket closer around her shoulders.

"Take the bed, I am not mad, it's just I would like some time to think," she let her simple words hand in the air as she made for the door and closed it behind her. The fire crackled in the hearth with a pooping sound, Thorin sat dumbstruck. He moved to the bed, kicked off his shoes and waited for sleep to take him, but it didn't. He waited for hours with her words ringing in his ears until the light of dawn peeped over the horizon, Lif had yet to return. He got up, arching from his injuries, washed and left before the rest of the mountain awoke.

_Menu tessu- you are everything_

**Salvei! As always please review and let me know what you think.**

**Next chap should be this time next week and it will be called- "The Promise,"- BADPENNY**


	12. The conversation with the King

The Conversation with a King

The day had been sluggish and boring; the winter snow had ebbed but was replaced with hissing sleet. It slashed against the windows, sending howls down the chimney, and putting a biting chill in the air. Thorin sat in the library in front of the fire, he held a book on his lap but he wasn't reading, instead he stared absently into the dancing flames.

_"I have ruined your ability to think of the people, I have changed you. For good or bad, I cannot tell." _The words ran wildly about his head, they had robbed him of sleep and set pains of anxiety in his jut, he couldn't keep his mind on one task without gazing off into the distance and losing track on what he was doing.

Had she changed him? He didn't feel any different, he was maybe a bit thinner but that was nothing a large bowl of stew couldn't fix, and the bags under his eyes were due to the lack of sleep over the last two days. Physically he was the same, maybe emotionally he'd learnt to open his heart and had experienced the warmth of her loving embrace, he loved and was loved in return which was truly more than he had ever hope for. But was Lif right? Had he become selfish, had he forgotten the true calling of the people?

Thorin slammed his book down with frustration, making the library echo, then fall again into an eerie silence with only the sound of the pooping fire to drown out the sound of his own beating heart.

He hadn't been back to the Rook since dawn this morning; he was in too much turmoil to face Lif. He felt a little betrayed, hurt, ashamed, irritated but above all confused. Why do women have to make things so difficult? Before Thorin would have acted with total surety, life had been simple back then, but it had also been lonely. He'd been protecting Lif's honour, she was his Pledge and it was his duty to protect her, but in the process had he endangered all she had had to sacrifice and above all, the safety of the mountain.

Thorin's head hurt. He sat forward and rested his head in his hands, massaging his temples, until the pain had disappeared from his head and a salutation presented itself.

"Frór, are you still fretting, Hyndla will come round in time. You shall see," Thorin jumped out of his skin and sprang to his feet, almost stumbling backwards as he came face to face with his grandfather. Thror stood in semi darkness, the gold and silver of his crown and jewels winked in the dancing fire light, but his eyes were clouded and distant as if he were searching for something on the horizon for a figure. He looked at Thorin gently but with unseeing eyes, he smiled and placed an old but strong hand on his shoulder.

"Hyndla is as noble and stubborn but sensible, just wait and see," Thror smiled gently at Thorin, unease squirmed in Thorin's belly, his grandfather was a steadfast ruler through and through and to see him in such a dazed condition was disturbing to say the least.

"Grandfather, it's me, Thorin. I ...don't know any Hyndla," Thorin said carefully, watching the confusion pass over Thror's face, only to be quickly hidden again.

"My apologies, for a moment in the dim light you looked exactly like my brother Frór did at your age," Thror dropped his hand from Thorin's shoulder and withdrew it to his side. He glanced away quickly and made to turn away but truthfully didn't want to be on his own and it had been months since him and his grandfather had spent any time together.

"No my King, there is no need to apologise, you just startled me that is all. Would you like me to leave?" Thorin asked quickly, moving to the desk and lighting a couple of candles, casting more light around the room.

"No, that won't be necessary. Please come and join me," Thror turned and looked at his grandson for a moment, studying his youthful features than moved and sat down in one of the arm chairs by the fire. Thorin sat on the floor across from his grandfather; he crossed his legs and looked up at him from the floor. Thorin studied every line and wrinkle of his face, while the comfortable silence stretched on, neither wanted to mention the lapse of Thror's mind or the long lost brother who he'd seen: Thorin had had a glimpse of Thror's most private memories and would respect his privacy.

"Were you looking for any particular book?" Thorin asked politely, not really knowing how to carry on the conversation.

"I wasn't looking a book really, sometimes I just like to sit in here and think. It reminds me of my younger days when my father first colonised the mountain," Thror said nostalgically, glancing at the corner where he and his brothers had once played. Before Thorin could speak, Thror turned his almost white blue eyes to Thorin's and stared at him piercingly. "I would have expected to see you here once or twice but lately I have noticed that your mind is elsewhere?" Thror cocked his bushy snowy white eyebrow, it was as if Thorin were a Dwarrow again and he'd spilled ink over his best shirt, Thorin swallowed but was unable to look away. "Hmmm, well Thorin, do you want to tell me or should I start guessing?"

The bottom fell out of Thorin's stomach, it was as if he had missed a step in the dark but just kept falling; the game was up, it had all been for nothing, he wouldn't mention Lif by name but he would certainly be sent away that much he knew. He opened his mouth to speak but yet again Thror stole the words from his mouth.

"Would it have anything to do with the Raven you danced with at the Durin Ball? The Priestess of Muninn if I am not mistaken, and a seldom am," Thror said lightly, retrieving his golden pipe from one of his long sleeves and beginning to puff out smoke.

Thorin gaped opened mouthed at his grandfather. How could he be so calm, how could he just could he just shatter Thorin's world and continue smoking his damn pipe. "You...you knew?" He heard himself ask shakily. His grandfather chuckled and dragged his chair closer to Thorin's.

"I have known you all your life; do you really think I haven't noticed the spring in your step or the faraway look in your eye?" The King chuckled again and smiled warmly at his grandson, the gold and silver clasps in his beard jingling a little as he tilted his head to one side.

"Does my Father know?" Thorin asked quietly, his voice hoarse and raspy as adrenaline rushed through his veins, his fought to keep his face and body impassive but he knew he was tensed like a coiled spring.

"No, he doesn't suspect and I would wish to keep it that way," Thror warned his icy eyes turning hard for a moment before he continued. "He is an idealist, while I have always been a realist. I know that the mind dictates what we can and can't do but truly the heart is what puts passion into our actions." Thror looked into the warm fire and nodded slowly as if agreeing with his own words. "I regret now the hand your father was dealt. The arranged marriage between Thetis and Thrain...between your parents was necessary for the safety of the mountain during those hard times. But still Thrain is bitter and cannot see..." His voice drifted off and he stared into the fire, and then indicated for Thorin to get him a drink.

Dutifully Thorin went to the desk and filled a goblet with wine for his grandfather, then returned to his seat and pushed it into the king's hands, waiting patiently for him to continue speaking.

"Times have changed my Boy! We have ushered in a new age that will be peaceful and plentiful, mark my words. Yes, the times have changed from your fathers, so I see no need for the past to repeat itself..." his words were loud and merry, cutting through the silence of the library like a knife through butter, Thror leaned forward and rested on his elbows then beamed at his grandson. "I give you have my promise that there will be no marriage arrangement from me, Dis too shall have no such obligation made of her."

"Oh my days! Do you really...I mean, my Lord I don't know what to say..." Thorin began to stutter in excitement, barely able to keep himself from jumping from his seat. But Thror held his hand up to silence him.

"Though when I am gone, it will fall to into your father's hands, so be sure that he hears no rumours of illicit behaviour of his first born and heir like there is of Frerin: for it would be bringing the repercussions on yourself." Thror added sternly, his voice was powerful and commanded complete respect.

"I can assure you there will be no rumours. I am Pledged to Lif, apart from the mountain and its people, she is my only concern," Thorin assured firmly as fiery passion flared in his chest.

"My my, you don't do things by halves do you?" Thror chuckled at Thorin's determination with pride. "You do yourself proud, it takes courage to do ones duty but it takes even more to follow your Soulmate. So, for my part I suppose you have my blessing." Before Thorin could even gasp in surprise at Thror's sudden declaration, the king beckoned that Thorin should kneel in front of him. Thorin rested on one knee and looked up into his grandfather's icy blue eyes; they were old and sombre but full of wisdom. Thror rested his old wrinkled hand on Thorin's brow as he spoke. "You are a Durin incarnate. Thorin II reborn, you will be every bit as wonderful as you predecessor, I trust your judgement as much as I do my own." Thror's words were hushed, so soft that a small breeze could have blown them from his lips, but so strong that Thorin could actually feel them in his bones: and he believed them.

Thror took his hand off Thorin's head, then glanced at his hands and smiled wistfully, then began working off one of his many rings. Next to the ancient Dwarven ring of power on Thror's index finger were two simple stone rings, made of purple jasper and inlaid with ancient runes, they both had one interlocking edge so that they could be twisted together to make one: two rings to make a whole.

"Your grandmother Aurelia made these for us when we were still courting, for like you we were – how would you wee' Dwarrows say- _Hush-hush._" Thror pressed the rings into his grandson's hands, and swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat, and then got up to leave. Thorin had known that Aurelia and Thror had loved each other deeply but never that they had originally had to hide.

The old king turned back to Thorin as he reached for the door handle. "I would advise that you wait until your time on the throne comes before you make her your queen, marriage must always be a heart not politics, succeed in that first, then together tackle the strain of rule," he spoke simply and then was gone.

Thorin was dumbstruck. He was still knelt on one knee but into much shock to move. Had that really just happened? Was he dreaming? He'd heard of Genies granting wishes but his own Grandfather and King solving all his problems in one evening, it was too good to believe: but believe it he did. He pulled himself to his feet and stumbled out of the library, fell through his bedroom door, pulled on some fresh clothes and quickly scribbled a letter to Dis. She had a right to know that she no longer has to live in fear of Lord Vanir, she could sleep restfully for the first time since she'd come of age and Thorin wouldn't begrudge her that. Then, as if in a dream, he was walking. At some point he pressed the letter into a servants hand because one moment it was there and the next it was gone.

He didn't remember reaching the Rook or greeting Roäc but he halted at Lif's door, with his boots in his left hand, while his right reached for the door handle.

The door swung open suddenly, Lif appeared in front of him, her mouth was open in shock but her eyes hidden by her hood pulled low over her face.

"Thorin, I was just on my..." But his mouth stole the words from her. Stepping through the door and pulling back her hood, his mouth claimed hers while his hands cupped her face. She gasped in surprise as he crushed her against him, engulfing her with feverish heat, she tried to pull away but his hands moved to soothe her back and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Marry me," he sighed into her lips, breathing in her intoxicating aroma; if she was a drug he would chose to be high on her forever. Lif grew as still as marble.

"What did you just say?" Her voice was cautious and controlled; if she had misheard him she didn't want him to think she was trying to pressure him in anyway. Thorin pulled back and smoothed her hair. He smiled dreamily and gently taking her hands, he led her to the stand in front of the fire place: he wanted to see her face, her radiance as he told her what had passed between Thror and him.

"I said marry me, Lif, I would like you to be my wife," he said matter-of-factly, savouring the dumbstruck expression that settled on her face, but then she snorted and punched him playfully on the arm.

"Don't be stupid, we can't do that, what would your Father say?" She said stubbornly and began to move away so that she could hand her cloak up, but Thorin held her in place by the shoulders and turned her so that she could meet his eyes.

"I don't know what my father would say but I know that Thror approves and gives his consent fully," Thorin whispered these words as if they were sacred, fragile things that would shatter at the slightest touch. He laughed quietly as Lif gaped at him, her eyes so wide that he could her there whites and her mouth so wide she could have swallowed a whole apple. He let go of her shoulder and took the rings out of the breast pocket of his undershirt, how they got there he would never know, and laid them in his open palm before her.

Lif opened her mouth to speak but no words came out, she closed her mouth again.

"I know you were right about how I treated Dain, you have broken the armour I once wore and the only way to fix it is if we're bound together, as one," Thorin said this quietly but the words pounded in Lif's ears like battle drums, her mouth was dry, and her head swam.

"Just give me a minute...to soak it in," Lif mumbled as her body sagged and she half fell, half sat on the sofa by the fire place. Bound forever, it was so final, so sacred; no dwarf could break this bond even if they grew to hate each other. She couldn't think for a moment, or hear, or see; she only knew what she felt. Thorin moved away to the kitchen and returned with a cool glass of water that he pressed into her hands.

She looked up and seemed to see the dwarf before her for the first time. He was strong, unyielding, as if he'd been carved from the stone itself. But underneath this exterior she knew the man, the gentle lover, the warm heart, the best friend and the port in the storm. Lif took a sip of water to wet her dry mouth and took Thorin's hands to kiss his palms.

"I have one condition," she fought to keep the massive grin of her face as Thorin let out a loud laugh which echoed around the chamber.

"Conditions! No prince has ever heard that before!"His body shook with laughter, wiping a tear from his eye, he tried to compose himself. "Well, let me hear your conditions."

"Your royal duties always come first. I can and have cared for myself in the past; you have others who need your protection, not me. The mountain and its people, simple," Lif said passionately, she wouldn't be to blame if anything happened to the mountain, Lif only wanted the best for the mountain and for Thorin: their destinies were entwined, Lif knew that if one fell they both would.

Thorin took a step away from Lif and silently pondered her words. He stroked his beard and cupped his jaw as his mind churned, it went against every protective fibre of his being but she was right, she could take care of herself- she'd actually saved his life once- and why shouldn't the welfare of the mountain always go before the individual? He turned back to her and nodded in a business like fashion. "Yes, I think I can live with that."

Tears pooled in Lif's eyes as she sprang to her feet, laughing as she threw her arms around his neck, Thorin caught her around the waist and lifted her into the air as if she weighed nothing at all. Lif looked down at him, pride and love blocked everything apart from his face out, and he was the only thing she saw. "Melhek..." she whispered, loving how the words rolled of her tongue. "My love..." it was simple and perfect.

Lowering her to her feet, he took the hand that rested over his heart and gently pushed the ring onto her finger, his touch was so soft it was as if he thought she was made of smoke and would disappear at any moment.

"Men lananubukhs menu, athune," he whispered adoringly, gazing at her face and studying every inch of skin that would be with him for evermore.

Lif eventually remembered to breathe, but no words came, no words could describe the emptiness that had been filled: an emptiness she didn't know existed until then. She was lost and then found, broken and then fixed, solved and yet still a mystery. Simply no words could describe it. So she laid her head against his chest and clung to him, as husband and wife they watched the dying flames of the fire.

* * *

Just a cute addition to note that Thorin wouldn't let any other attendants clean the library after Lif had because he wanted to preserve the memories they had shared there.

Men lananubukhs menu, athune- i love you my queen

**Hello, please review and tell me what you think. I appreciate everyone of my reviews, truly I do!**

**If you like this story you'll love Hidden destiny and lost pasts- it works along side this one...you'll see what i mean. **

**Next chap will be called..."The oven" **


	13. The Oven

Hello again! Should probably break the bad news to you, after this chapter there is only two left, thats it...DONE, END, BOOM! So, enjoy these while the good times last because soon I'm gonna have an ending that makes Romeo and Juliet look like a Rom/Com-BADPENNY

The oven

Thorin struggled to suppress a yawn and gestured for another cup of coffee. The western drink had become par t of his morning routine, helping to keep him away during the long tedium of the council meetings and duties.

It was difficult for him to concentrate, when all he really wanted to do was spend the bright spring days in Rook gardens with Lif, while she helped Dwalin teach Dis the art of swordsmanship and warfare. The Rook garden had flourished through the bad winter snow and was now buzzing with activity, not just because of the bee hives but with snow drops and bluebells covering erupting from the grass, and the tufted raven chicks hopping about the hay beds.

His sister too was coming on leaps and bounds since she'd first met Lif. The older She-dwarf had been a good influence on her, though even Thorin had noticed that she'd picked up some of her more bossy tendencies. She was slowly learning to sew and bake and learn the art of war, not to mention she was nearing the end of her healers' apprenticeship, so her life was very busy: though she did manage to visit a certain skilled craftsman whenever she had a free moment to herself.

His schedule was packed today; his last meeting wasn't until after supper and with the dawn training session he'd had with Dwalin, he was truly exhausted: but the thought of reclining in a hammock under the stars tonight with Lif was well worth the hard work. He held his cup and breathed in the rich aroma, without coffee he doubted he'd be able to keep awake while Lord Moric droned on and on about the quality of the liver supply coming from Laketown.

Suddenly there was a gentle knock at the door and a guard popped his head round the door and cleared his throat. "I am sorry to disturb you my Lords..." He said in a gruff voice, characteristic of the seasoned war veteran that he was.

"Yes, what is it?" Thorin snapped, more harshly than he intended, not wanting to delay his meeting longer than it needed to be.

"Begin' your pardon my Lord, but I thought you'd want to know that there's a raven asking for you on the balcony," the guard nodded and retreated into the hallway. Thorin's brow crinkled as he pondered the guard's words, anxiety flared up and coiled in his stomach: Lif would never risk sending him a message unless it was urgent and Roäc would never leave his young unprotected.

"Gentlemen, please excuse me," Thorin said sternly, leaving no opportunity for the council to argue with him, and rising from the table. He moved over to the large bay windows, drew the heavy tapestry curtains across and stepping out into the blustery wind. As the guard had said one of the large Erebor Ravens was perched on the stone battlements of the balcony, flapping its wings and screaming into the wind.

"TORR-RUN!" It repeated over and over again in a high pitched voice, not all birds had the gift of speech like Roäc did; this bird was an adolescent and still learning the common tongue. Thorin recognised him as one of Roäc's offspring.

"Caa-Haar, be calm! What is the matter?" Thorin reached out and smoothed Caa-Haar's soft feathers, the bird stilled and pushed against Thorin's hand, when he had been petted sufficiently did he choose to speak.

"Roäc se-nt' Caa-Haar. Tellem' TORR-RUN at' Preee ...Preee..."Caa-Haa made a choking noise as he struggled to get the word out.

"The Priestess of Muninn..." Thorin added helpfully, taking pity on the young raven.

"Da', didn't Co-me bri-ng hay or se-eeds i-na fir-st li-height," Caa-Haar bobbed his head as if to single that he had delivered his message and stood looking at Thorin expectantly. Thorin tired to fit CaaHaar's words together in his head.

"Lif didn't bring you food this morning at dawn," Thorin said absently, tension beginning to burn uncomfortably in his chest; it was so unlike Lif, even when they'd been up all night she would make herself get up in the morning as usually.

"Da'" Caa-Haar said before leaping of the battlements and soaring off towards the Rook. Thorin closed the balcony door closed behind him and pulled the curtain open, the council look at him with concern.

"My Prince, is everything alright?" Lord Moric got to his feet and stepped towards Thorin, laying a hand on his forearm; his face must have been a picture worry because all eyes were fixed on his face unblinkingly.

"Yes, everything is well. I just have to check on something, forgive me," Thorin shrugged off Moric's arm and went to the large table in the centre of the room, penned a quick note of Balin and then turned back to the council. "I am sorry, I am needed elsewhere but Balin will hear your concerns and voice them back to me. Please await him patiently," Thorin nodded, and without any more to do, he left. He kept his walk calm and relaxed, as not to awake suspicion, but as soon as he reached the upper corridors and was out of sight from prying eyes; he dashed to the secret door in the stone wall and burst into the Rook.

He strode past Roäc's podium and made for Lif's door. Roäc and his kin stood in the crowded little hallway, stretching at the wooden door in vain.

"Priestess of Muninn has not been out of doors yet and it is way passed first light," the raven king said, turning to Thorin. The door was scratched were the birds had tried to get in, but it was no good, Lif usually locked the door during the nights that Thorin didn't stay. He rattled the handle to no avail, then ushering the chattering ravens back, he threw his weight into a mighty kick and the door burst open.

Smoke billowed out of the open door blinding Thorin and sending the ravens screeching back. Holding his handkerchief over his mouth and shielding his eyes with his arm he marched forward into the smoke. He couldn't see a foot in front of him but in a few strides he reached the garden doors and threw them open, sending clouds of smoke into the air. He could see better but not much, though he could make out hissing kettle and the smell of burning metal. Advancing on the oven and tacking a cloth from the side, Thorin picked the blackened kettle of the flames and dumped it in the sink and turned the tap on full blast. The copper kettle was bone dry and was almost entirely black from where it had burnt dry. The kettle hissed and steam rose like a hot mist but blew away quickly out the open door.

That was when Thorin heard a piercing screech from Roäc, springing on his heel, Thorin's eyes settled on the crumpled body on the ground. Thorin let out a curse and bolted to Lif's side. She was sprawled on the floor just next to the bed, still wearing her cotton night dress and her hair still dishellved from sleep. She was utterly still, her eyes closed and her breathing barely visible: it was as if he was laid next to her in a tomb, Thorin cradled the copse like figure in his arms, rocking her unconscious body back and forth.

"Please get me my sister, I need Dis urgently," he heard himself say to Roäc, who watched from a distance; Roäc bowed his head and flew of himself to see to it. Thorin brushed he hair out of Lif's eyes and checked her fevered skin for a pulse, it was fluttering, and then shifted her slightly so that he could lift her into bed. But she let out a long sigh and she licked her lips before carefully opening her eyes.

"Thorin...what am I doing on the floor?"Her voice was muffled and thick, her head swam and the room spun, her eyes were fuzzy and see blinked to bring Thorin's face in focus. His face was pale and grey, the blood had drained from his lips, and his arms held her so tight it almost hurt.

"I was about to ask you the same question, what are you doing?" His voice was tight, but the relief of hearing her voice actually hurt in his chest. Lif tried to sit up and look around but a wave of nausea washed over her, so she clung to Thorin for support until it subsided.

"I don't know...I got up and put the kettle on and then ...I ... I don't know," Lif whispered out of exhaustion, all her energy seemed to sink into the floor and she was grateful for Thorin's strong arms keeping her up. Thorin swallowed a lump that formed in his throat and without saying a word, scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing, set her down carefully on the bed and pulled the blankets over her. He kissed her brow and got her a glass of water. "What's that smell?" Lif asked sniffing at the burnt air.

"You cremated the kettle," Thorin said lightly, moving to open another window.

"How? ... What time is it?" Lif asked in confusion, her voice getting stronger as she took a gulp of cooling water. Thorin turned back to her and sat on the end of the bed, watching her pale face with concern, she looked so lost: it broke his heart to see her like this. It made him feel... fragile, she was his safety blanket and seeing her so mortal made the world a much more dangerous place.

"It's coming up to mid morning, Lif," Thorin said gently, placing his hand over hers as it lay on top of the covers.

"Mid morning! But that means the ravens haven't been fed!" Lif exclaimed, trying to rise from her pillows but Thorin moved quickly and pushed her back down onto the mattress.

"I'll get someone to take care of it, don't worry..." Thorin began but was cut off as the door banged open.

"Yes, you will indeed! Working her to exhaustion like that!" Dis barked loudly, her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, with her healers bag under her arm she marched passed the ravens and shoved passed Thorin; setting her cloak and bag down on the night stand.

"I don't work her to exhaustion..."

"I'm not exhausted, I just tripped or something..." Thorin and Lif both protested at once but Dis raised her hands and scowled at Thorin.

"You out! I need to make an examination of the patient," Dis barked at Thorin, pointing at the door.

"An examination, what for?" Lif asked, looking at Thorin for help.

"I don't think she needs an examination Dis. It's probably just the beginnings of the flu, you were training late last night and it was cold..." Thorin tried to calm Dis' enthusiasm but she was in no mood to listen.

"Who is the Healer here Thorin Thetisson Durin?" Dis asked sharply, glaring at Thorin with her hands on her hips.

"Well, technically you haven't..." Thorin began to argue, but Dis advanced on him and pushed him to the door.

"I have more training than you, so do as you're told!" Dis snapped and pushed the rest of the flock out before slamming the door shut.

Thorin quickly regretted letting his sister get so wild. He paced up and down, left to right, round and around in circles waiting for Lif to be given the all clear; but every second felt like an hour and every minute felt like an age. Thorin had never really been patient with anything, especially those he cared most about. Cursing under his breath, he moved silently to the closed to and pressed his ear against the solid wood: listening to the mumble of voices inside.

"Does this hurt?" Thorin heard Dis ask.

"No...Ouch!" said Lif, he then heard Dis make an odd noise between a gasp and a screech.

"Lif you're,... I think you're..."

"Don't be stupid, I need sleep and a hot meal, it's the flu! It's not ...that!" Thorin heard Lif snap and he smiled as he imagined her waving her arms about frantically.

"How regular are you?" Dis asked in a matter-of-fact tone. Thorin pulled his ear away from the door briefly, spying on someone's conversation was one thing, but bowel movements were another bucket of fish entirely.

"Holy Son of an Orc!..." Thorin had pulled his ear away from the door as Lif's voice echoed around the top of the mountain.

"Just breathe, deep breathes, in and out ... and again," Dis said, trying to be soothing.

"I..I can't take it in, are you quite sure?" Lif asked shakily.

"Sure as stone Liffy, it was the first thing we did in training." Thorin cursed Dis and cursed the door: what was she sure about? He heard Dis clicking closed her bag and her footsteps approaching the door. Thorin seized the opportunity and pulled open the door just as Dis turned back to Lif. "I am not going to be the one to tell him."

"Tell me what?" He asked stubbornly, to frustrated to be shoved out again, Dis gasped in surprise and Lif jumped shock as he burst through the door. He stood staring at them, determined not to move before he got a straight answer.

* * *

**AHAHAHAHAHAHA- if you think you know whats going to happen, you are wrong! **

**Review, I can't describe the stupidly happy face I get when I see someones bothered to review. **

**Also check my other story out, this is like a prequel almost...BADPENNY**


	14. Branwen

**ijgbegv;wjbvrcbou...BADPENNY CURLS INTO A BALL AND CRIES HERSELF TO SLEEP. **

Branwen

Thorin kicked off his boots and gently set them by the door, balancing a brown paper package in one hand and his winter cloak in the other, he pushed open the newly painted blue door. Rook Hall was pleasantly silent, the fire cracked in the hearth, and a gentle wind rattled the wind panes.

The air was filled with a peaceful silence that encaputalet the tranquillity of the house over the past months. The fire crackled in the hearth, popping every so often, herbs dried from the ceiling and lavender pots had begun to blossom in the corners of the room. Maps, papers and books were piled high on every service- Lif had asked him to raid the Durin library as she steadily progressed with her study of the mountain and its histories. She had even started drawing the mountain itself, getting Dwalin and Dis to make detailed notes for her, she that she could chart them accurately.

Well, she did like to be kept busy, Thorin noted in amusement as he thought back to one of their first meetings in the library: causally studying one of her latest inventions that lay on the kitchen table. It appeared to be some type of egg warmer, made out of a frying pan and a teapot.

She could no longer do the manual labour that was involved in her day to day care of Roäc and his flock, but it didn't mean she wouldn't try. After she had started to show; Thorin, Dis, and Dwalin had each started taking it in turns to join Lif with her daily tasks. However as the months had passed and her back began to ache and her belly grew, she begrudgingly had accepted the help, providing them with detailed instructions of how each task should be done. For example the exact ratio of vinegar and water she used to scrub out the raven wall, or the mixture of herbs she used monthly in the hay of the Rook, not to be confused with the hay recipe she used for the nests.

Thorin glanced over to Lif lying on the sofa by the fire, a newly completed list sat beside her under a mug on the floor, the title on the top of the paper read "the best method for cleaning feathers, page 1 of 34." She was fast asleep, her mouth slightly open, one arm draped over the edge of the sofa and the other laid protectively over her distended belly next to an empty mug that was balanced precariously.

Lif had taken to wearing Thorin's cotton summer night shirts and his woollen socks around the Rook because she was always either too hot or too cold. So when Thorin gently laid his hand over her warm belly, he swore that he could almost feel his child's heart beating.

_His child- _it was still an odd thought, but a nice thought. He kissed the bump lightly as not to disturb Lif's sleep, pulled the sofa back from the fire and covered over her legs with a blanket.

With a warm glow bubbling over in his chest, he turned away from his love and contented himself with pottering around the Rook for the evening. He made neat piles of books and safely pushing them back against the walls, laying her paper work out on the table so that she didn't slip. A few months ago, just as her bump was beginning to show; Dwalin and Dis had been sat on the sofa enjoying the seedcake that Lif had baked fresh to satisfy her cravings, when she stumbled over a ball of wool and almost crashed bump first to the floor. If it hadn't had been for Dwalin's quick reflexes, Thorin couldn't bear to think what would have happened.

But he pushed this put of his mind as his eyes settled on what Lif had affectionately named the "Dwarrow's corner,"- which currently consisted of a few crotched blankets that Lif had made over the summer, a woven reed basket that had turned up on their door step on morning {though Thorin had a suspicion that Dwalin had been too shy to give it to her himself} and small pile of Dwarrow clothes. Thorin let his eyes fall on a pair of booties that were so small they wouldn't have fit on his little finger and cast his mind back to when Lif had fist told him the news.

* * *

"Tell me what?" Thorin asked anxiously, studying the face of the woman he loved more than anything. All the blood drained from Lif's cheeks and lips, giving her an almost other worldly glow, her eyes searched his face as Thorin took a step towards the bed: waiting with baited breath for the bad news that was to come. "What is it?" He asked his voice was hard and void of emotion, he knew it was too good to be true: Thror's blessing, the peace treaty, Karis' engagement to Lord Vanir; all good things must come to an end.

Lif looked away from his gently probing eyes, she looked at the floor, the walls the window, everywhere but him. Then sucking in a determined breath, she turned her body towards his- tears pooling in her eyes.

Nausea squirmed in Thorin's stomach and a painful fist sized lump formed in his throat as the seconds ticked by- he dreaded the bad news to come. He sat by her side on the bed and took her calloused hands in his. "Are you sick?" The words that escaped his throat were hoarse and rushed, as was his breathing which was verging on panic. But Lif let out a noise that was half a sob and half a laugh; tears began to spill freely down her face. Thorin brushed her hair away from her face and wiped the tears away with his thumb. She chuckled and kissing his palm before getting off the bed and kneeling before him, resting her hands on his knees in a businesslike manner.

"Thorin, I need you not to get over excited," she began in a warning tone. "Remember when you gave me this?" Lif lifted her hand and indicated to the ring on her left hand, it winked in the bright midday sunlight. "And with it you promised me that you would always but the mountain before me, always not matter the situation."

"I remember..." Thorin said cautiously, wondering with trepidation where Lif was going with this.

"Well, you have to place me third for there is someone else for you to love," Lif said simply as she beamed up at him, studying his crinkled brow as he puzzled over her words.

"If you mean Dwalin, it's more of a friendship..."Thorin began but Lif snorted with laughter.

"No, you idiot, not Dwalin," Lif stood up and wrapping her fingers around his wrist, she lifted his hand and placed it on her belly- her skin was hot and almost feverish- Thorin looked from her, to his hand and back to her. "Thorin, I am with Dwarrow..."Lif spoke softly, memorising the war of emotions that ran glorious riot over his face.

He opened his mouth but no words came out, it was as if the cogs of his brain had slammed to a stop, he looked from his large hand that nearly covered all of Lif's stomach and back to Lif. She let a slow smile creep over her face and she beamed encouragingly at Thorin as realisation dawned over his face.

"I'm going to be a Father?" He whispered under his breath, barely able to believe his own words. Lif began to laugh loudly and fresh tears poured down her face, but Thorin now knew they were tears of joy. He pulled her gently by the hips towards him and laid his head against her stomach, touching her as if she were made of glass. "We're going to have a Dwarrow," he said quietly, pressing his lips against her warm skin.

Lif cupped his head and smoothed down his hair, a few minutes ago she had been lost; a mother, her? No, she couldn't see it, she was too distractible, too careless- but then her eyes had met Thorin's: strong, unyielding, he was her sanctuary, her other half in every sense of the word. Whatever life had thrown at them and whatever trials they faced, they faced them together and overcame them. So, why not this one? Pulling his head up she kissed his brow and wrapped her arms around his neck as she sat on his lap, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

"We're going to have a Dwarrow..."Thorin whispered again, obviously still dealing with the shock. Lif pulled back to regard his face, his skin was flushed and his eyes were feverishly bright.

"Now, I don't think we should get excited, I mean my mother had two miscarriages before me and then she died in child birth when I was born. It nearly ripped my Father apart, so that means no thinking of names for your son..." Lif began sombrely but Thorin cut in.

"How do you know it'll be a boy?" He completely disregarded all she'd said about not getting excited and laid a hand on her belly again, basking in the warm glow that burned brightly in his heart. "The Dwarrow's half me and half of you after all, so it'll be twice as stubborn and therefore be a girl." He beamed at her, not smiling but radiating a warm tranquillity and love.

"Oh, really, well it will do as it's told," Lif chuckled and looked down at her tummy, "do you hear that bump? I want you to be a boy, now hop to it!"

* * *

As it was Thorin did completely disregard Lif's words about getting excited. The world seemed a brighter place than it had been the day before, everything was shiny and new; new hope, new start a new life coming into the world- it took his breath away to think of it.

Thorin had held Lif close to him the rest of the day. Held her like he had held nothing in his life, so precious she would disappear at a moment's notice, so fragile she was shatter and fly away on the wind- In the end Lif had pressed her body into his side and pulled them both down onto the bed. And they had held each other, simply chatting about what was to be and revelling in each other's glow.

However as late afternoon fell, he covered her with blankets and threw another log onto the fire. He kissed her lightly on mouth, savouring her sweet scent before Thorin pulled reluctantly away. Closing the door securely behind him, he then went to deal with a very perturbed flock of ravens, who hadn't had anything except worms all day.

It was difficult to explain to Roäc about Lif's pregnancy, eventually Thorin had to revert to a simpler method of communication.

"Lif is making an egg. An egg that takes a long time to hatch." It was a crude analogy but it was the only way Thorin could think of to make The Raven king understand.

"Thorin will have his own flock, I will send word if anything happens, may the chick grows feathers and fly strong," Roäc had bobbed his head in approval and given his blessing and it warmed Thorin's heart to hear it from the beak of his oldest friend.

He then went to check in with Balin and apologise for his abrupt disappearance but Balin simply shrugged and said, "No need to thank me, it's what I'm paid for."

Although he could be a know-it-all and something of a stuffy beaurcrat, Thorin was actually growing fond of Balin. Thorin asked if there was anything he needed to do for tomorrows meetings, Balin said assured there wasn't, so Thorin made a quick exist.

His feet carried his away; his mind was still curled up cosily next to Lif, and before he knew where he was Thorin arrived on the Craftsman's Level.

Designated especially for Blacksmiths and carvers; Stonemasons, jewellers, carpenters, tinkers, toymakers, builders, joiners, welders, the Master of Arms and the Forges: the Craftsman's level was the beating heart of the mountain, where every diamond was polished and every ounce of gold melted. It was a busy hubbub of tapping and clanging hammers, Thorin made his way down the long street like walk way in the middle of rows and rows of workshops, which pressed against either side on the long cavern.

Thorin pausing as sparks sprung from a whetstone in front of him and then continued walking. It brought back memories of his own internship with the Blacksmith Otter so many years ago. He looked back on his time with fondness, but he was not there to be nostalgic.

Pausing outside a carpenters workshop, he glanced about to check no one watched him, and then darted into the slightly smaller workshop next door.

Written in swirly red lettering was a sign that read, "Big Bofur's bounty of fun stuff and things." The toy workshop certainly looked fun, the door pillars were carved into an ugly green goblin with his tongue sticking out and an elf looking dim-witted and crossed eyed.

Thorin hadn't been in a toy shop in years, looking at the intricate carvings of animals and little movable figures brought back found memories of when he, Frerin and Dis were still young enough to play together. They would run about Durin's hall on hobby horses while one would wear a dragon or troll mask, they would take it in turns being the great warrior and tell tales of what they would do when they grew up: they had been good simple times, which Thorin would always look back on with fondness. He hoped that his child would know the same happiness.

_His child… _A nervous tension squirmed in his belly. What if it didn't like him? What if Lif preferred it to him? What if he dropped it? What if it had his nose? All these thoughts were running wildly through his head as Big Bofur entered the work shop.

"My Lord, what an unexpected honour, what can I do for you this fine bright day," Big Bofur exclaimed in welcome. He was a large Dwarf with a round belly and round rosy cheeks, his dark eyes shined like polished lumps of coal and matched dark swaths of curly black hair. His black beard was braided into a tight plait that was hung with four tinkling silver bells and he wore a simple white cotton apron that was covered in wood shavings.

"I…I am looking for something for the lady Dis. One of her ladies maids is having a Dwarrow and she wanted to get her a gift but she is so busy of late that she asked me to look instead," Thorin said quickly, unable to think of any excuse that sounded more plausible. Big Bofur bounced on his heels and glanced about peevishly.

"Not wanting to offend my Lord, but I was just on my out. Ya' see Embla is expecting again and she gets agitated if I don' check in on her," at the thought of his unborn child Big Bofur got a dreamy faraway look in his eye, and stared absently of into the distance. Thorin wondered if he too would look like that one day.

"Oh I see how many does that make it now? Three, four…"Thorin asked politely, Big Bofur's Dwarrows had always been running about the Workshops while Thorin had been working on his internship, he had enjoyed watching their play and hearing the child's laughter cut through the monotonous tapping of hammers.

"Will be five in a months' time, she won't quite until she's got a girl see, but mustn't tally. My eldest, Little Bofur, will see to your needs. Good day to you my Lord," Big Bofur bowed and with a click of his heels, strode out the workshop and Thorin could hear him whistling down the street as he went. The door closed and the bell tinkled as Little Bofur pocked his head around the door to the main workroom.

"Oh do forgive me, I thought Big Bofur was taking care of you," Little Bofur called as he darted back into the little workroom and the came out wiping his hands clean on a rag. Little Bofur was in fact taller than his father and slightly leaner, he had the same rosy cheeks and shiny black eyes, but his hair was tied into two matching plaits and his unruly fringe tucked behind a leather throng: he had a set of pencils stuck behind each ear.

"No not at all, he said he had to check on Embla," Thorin reassured the young Dwarf, though he didn't know Bofur personally, he heard good things from Eitri and knew his reputation as an excellent carver.

"Yes, she is famous for her bad temper when she's with Dwarrow…" Bofur's face gained the same faraway look that Big Bofur had when he thought of his new brother or sister, but he snapped back into the present. "But it'll all be worth it in the end. Now, what can I do for you?"

Thorin told him about toys for Dis's fictional chamber maid, Bofur looked at him a little sceptical but didn't question him, instead turned and cast an expert eye over the shelves.

"Boy or girl?" Bofur asked in a business like tone, looking between a moving figurine of a horse and a bear.

"She doesn't know yet, she's only just found out," Thorin said in bewilderment, never had he really known anything about these…things, he was truly lost. The joyous after burn had carried him but he hadn't really thought of what he was looking for. Toys were just something he thought the Dwarrow would need.

Bofur turned and studied the Prince for a moment, his shiny black eyes studying his face, hands and body. Thorin was a Dwarf with a faraway look in his eye that Bofur knew all too well. Dragging in a sigh, he pulled the throng out of his hair and retied it, then gestured that Thorin should sit on a work stool that was tucked under the bench. He too sat and leaning on his fore arms as he spoke to Thorin quietly and carefully.

"You know, I've actually had seven siblings," Bofur said quietly, judging Thorin's expression as he spoke. Thorin's brow furrowed slightly.

"Really?" Thorin was truly confused about where this conversation was going.

"Yes, but only four of my brothers made it full term; it just happens that sometimes…. I would maybe advise waiting in case..."Bofur didn't need to say the words for Thorin to know what he meant, but he refused to think what could…what may happen to Lif and to his child.

"No, she is strong." Thorin's words came out harsher than he had expected, it was his commanding tone he saved for battle or when his temper got the better of him. Bofur recoiled slightly and inclined his head in apology.

"Very well, was it just a small gift that Lady Dis would like to give or was she looking at a larger…" Bofur turned from serious to merry in a matter of seconds; he sat straighter and leaned eagerly towards a sketch pad to make notes of the orders. But again Thorin was truly lost…

"I don't really know, large I would expect, yes: just make up a hamper of Dwarrow things," Thorin shifted awkwardly, suddenly uncomfortably hot in the workroom with Bofur looking at his expectantly.

"A hamper… of things?" Bofur said quizzically, cocking his eyebrow in half amusement and bewilderment.

"Yes," Thorin got up quickly, intending to make a quick escape though the door, Bofur humbled with his own stool, blocking his path.

"I know, I'll get my Mother to make up a list and I'll let you approve it, than make it up for you," Bofur said cheerily, proud that he'd come up with such a shroud business deal.

"Very well," Thorin said curtly, he strode through the workshop than paused at the door and turned back to Bofur. "Send the list to Dis directly and would it be possible to store everything here, my Father can't tolerate clutter," Thorin thought quickly, he wanted it to be a surprise for Lif. She said not to get excited, technically being prepared wasn't getting excited. He was being practical.

"We have storage in the back…" Bofur said quickly, fearing that the prince would take his business elsewhere if he didn't say.

"Very good then Master Bofur, I shall look forward to seeing your work," Thorin bowed and made to go out the door but Bofur called to him.

"My Lord, take something for Lady Dis to give to her friend now, like a good luck token, many She-dwarves do," Bofur said in good faith, proud with himself that he had sealed an important and profitable deal. Thorin stepped back into the workroom and cast his eyes about the shelves. Nothing really stood out, there were animal carvings, little painted houses, wooden weapons and cribs, he was about to say "No thank you," when his eyes settled on two little figures hiding a the back of the shelves in the corner.

The figures were very dusty but Thorin could see the intricate paint work underneath. A stag and a matching doe, their elegant necks pressed affectionately against each other in a loving embrace, with flecks of gold and bronze on their fur, they caught the light perfectly but both had simplistic beauty: The Stag King and his Doe.

"May I?" Thorin asked in a hush tone, not pulling his eyes away from the beautiful creatures.

"They' was the first things I ever made, never felt right in sellin' em…." Bofur said unhappily then turned and beamed at Thorin. "Then you shall be the exception."

Thorin patted Bofur's back warmly and assured him that he would be paid well for his crafts. Bofur grinned broadly and said that it was his honour. They passed a few minutes talking about Bofur's cousins Bombur and Bifur. Bombur had made quite a name for himself as the best cook in the mountain and was now in high demand by all the wealthy families having private functions. The famously dashing Bifur too had just arrived back from a long expedition to the north, bringing back with him a precious stone that apparently didn't come from the earth but from trees instead, he called it Amber.

After making his excuses, Thorin hid the figurines deep within his cloak and made his way back to Durin's hall. He hid the figures under his bed and glanced at himself in the mirror. He straightened his back bone and tired to look stern and fatherly... he let out a long sigh and covered his mirror with his cloak.

Thorin Thetisson Durin, Prince of the Erebor and father. Prince he could carry and the people he helped rule he could burden their weight and well being, but a new heir to the Durin line, a life that he had helped create shape and mould: it was a daunting task even for him.

* * *

Over the months that passed Thorin came to terms with his new role. Father-to be was just like being King-to-be, though it would happen hell of a lot sooner. He visited Dis frequently on the days when she was working in the House of Healing and asked gently probing questions about funding and whether there'd been any influxes of patients, all the time secretly gathering information about different types of herbs and something called a "gestation period." He'd been too young to really remember Thetis when she was pregnant with Dis, so all this information was new and alien to him.

And it was also good to secretly get a second opinion. There were times when Thorin worried that Lif tried not to make him anxious by saying she was alright when she wasn't. Like that time Thorin had to carry her to a chair when she'd had a dizzy spell and then was sick in the toilet for almost an hour, or on another occasion when he'd got her set of matching clasps for her hair and she'd burst into tears. But the Mistress of the House of Healing stilled his fears as she listed these as symptoms of pregnancy in a lecture he had attended on the subject.

He found this much easier now that he had more time on his hands, some would call it divine intervention, but Thorin would call it Thror's intuition. In the late spring Thorin had run into Thror going to speak to the Head House Keeper in the servant's quarters, his mind had been so far away that he collided with his Grandfather and almost knocked him down. Thror had caught him by the shoulders and looked at him up and down, his eyes so wide Thorin could see the whites, then Thror had silently studied his face until a giant smile had erupted on his face and he pulled his grandson into a hug. Pulling away, Thror had laughed, slapped Thorin on the back and continued to walk down the stairs without so much as a word.

Thorin was bewildered by the whole event until the next morning when a note from his father Thrain had been delivered and read thusly:

_Dear Thorin, _

_Thrain has expressed a wish that you are to begin historical studies in the Durin library every morning until lunch time. Now that it a time of peace there was no reason to become lax of your historical studies. The King would like you to pay special care to take into consideration the ancient founding legends like Stag and the Raven. After lunch you will train for two hours, eat and hold a meeting with Balin daily. _

_Thrain. _

It was in his Father's stoic style and at first it had bewildered him, until he read it more closely: the legend of the Stag and the Raven, his raven, Lif. To this day Thror knew things that no other Dwarf could, under the guise of study Thorin was free to spend his evenings and morning with Lif, without having to worry about people asking questions. And meeting with Balin meant he'd never fall behind in the running and management of the mountain.

It was in late autumn a few hours before Durin's day, Thorin and Balin were sat either side of the desk in the Durin library discussing the day's events.

"Frerin is due to send a rider in the next few days, so we should let the patrols know they will be a strange Dwarf in the area," Balin said, ticking off the matter on his list and taking another sip of wine.

"Unless he sends one of his entourage, we should also probably prepare a couch and four, in case he requests anything sent back to him. You know how he can be," Thorin said ruefully, smiling at the thought of his dandy younger brother. He had missed him secretly, for it was Frerin Thorin had to thank for pushing Lif and him together in the first place.

Balin was about to make a note of this when a great clatter hit the window behind the curtains, they both stilled, Balin with his quill hovered over the paper and Thorin with his glass halfway pressed to his lips. "What in Aüle's name...?" Balin exclaimed, setting aside his quill.

But Thorin was already on his feet; he leaped over the desk and dragged the curtains aside, nearly ripping them from the wall. His heart seized in his chest as his eyes settled on Roäc, flapping and scratching on the glass. Adrenaline surged through him, making him fumble with the window latch, letting out a snarl of frustration Thorin eventually got the window open and the Raven king soared into the library and settled on the mantel piece, shaking rain off his feathers. Thorin left the window wide open and darted to Roäc's side, resting his hands either side of the king.

"Is something wrong? What has happened?" Thorin's voice was clipped and harsh, raw with adrenaline and anxiety, for Lif's date drew very near: without a certain date, she could give birth any day now. Roäc looked at Balin and cocked his head, then stared pointedly at Thorin.

"There is an emergency with the flock," Roäc said in a sharp cawing tone. Thorin felt his heart stop and his body turn to stone.

"What type of emergency?" Thorin heard himself say, his fists clenched so tight his nails were drawing blood.

"The Priestess requires help with hatching," Roäc bobbed again and flapped his wings as if trying to help Thorin understand without Balin knowing, but Thorin knew what he meant alright. He swallowed, then breathed and then swallowed again.

"Roäc would you be so kind as to send for my sister and the Dwalin?" Thorin fought to keep his voice level, though even he could detect a tremble in his tone.

"Dis is already there, Priestess sent for her when sun was just covered," Roäc bobbed again and then leapt off the mantel piece and then out the window, presumably to get Dwalin. Thorin swallowed again, his mouth dry and turned to Balin you looked bewildered.

"The ravens are used to me and find my presence calming when the Priestess has to help with difficult hatchings. Are we done here?" Thorin said through gritted teeth, his muscles trembled with effort as he kept himself routed to the spot.

"Of course but I..." Balin shook his head in bewilderment but Thorin didn't wait to hear what he had to say. He was sprinting, leaping up stairs, dodging people, knocking people over but he couldn't care less. He had to get to Lif, he to make sure she was calm, make sure she was alright. She was terrified of giving birth, she had told him often enough, terrified that she would die like her mother had.

Thorin skittered to a halt and shouldered the secret door open and made sure it was closed behind him, and then entered the hall with the raven wall.

It was eerily quiet. He heard nothing, except the raging winds outside, there were no birds in their nests and Roäc was not yet back. He had no one to steady his nerves. He calmed his breathing and slowly made his way behind Roäc podium and in the Rook hallway, pressed his head against the cool wood of Lif's door.

What would be behind it? Two lives or one, one life or none. It was a game of chance that Thorin had never mastered. All their good fortune, all the trials they had overcome, would fate be a cruel mistress. Fate was a bitch but would she favour him today.

Thorin pulled himself together and turned the door handle. They fire was built high casting long shadows over the walls but the garden doors were slightly ajar to let in a cool breeze. No candles were light but even so Thorin could make out a figure propped up with pillows on the bed.

Lif looked pale and weak, fire light reflected off the sweat on her brow and her bare arms, making her wispy hair stick to her face. She looked exhausted, she trembled slightly, but she sparkling eyes never left the small bundled held carefully in her arms.

Thorin sagged against the door frame as relief washed over him, he didn't trust himself to speak. But as the gently thud against wood, Lif looked up serenely and beckoned him toward her. Thorin shuffled forward, not knowing what to do or say, but feeling completely overwhelmed. Lif smiled at him and shifted awkwardly so that Thorin could sit next to her on the bed.

"Do you need to sleep?" Thorin whispered almost too quietly after he had kicked off his boots and sat on the edge of the bed.

"And miss this, not for all the diamonds in the mountain. Do you want to meet your Father?" Was the only response Lif made, leaning gently towards him and placing the newborn Dwarrow in his arms.

It was a tiny thing, barely bigger than a loaf of bread but so strong. Dark curly hair covered its head and framed its rosy face like a cherubs. The Dwarrow yawned and opened its eyes. Jade like Lif's eyes, Thorin's was the first face it had ever looked upon. Silently and intelligently it watched him, before reaching up and placing a tiny little hand on his cheek.

Thorin opened his mouth to say something but no words came, his mouth was dry and his eyes began to itch. And for the first time in his life he let tears spill down his face and onto the Dwarrow's woollen blankets. He glanced up at Lif; she leaned in and pressed her forehead against his and they both cried tears of joy.

* * *

**Should probably mention that gestation period for a dwarf is 12 months, so that means... Yes, the dwarrow was concieved on Durin's day and we were all there. **

**I almost don't want to tell you but the next chapter will be called "The Final Curtain." **

**On a lighter note, please check out Lost Past and Hidden Destiny...**


	15. The Final Curtain

The Final Curtain

* * *

**It is not how a man dies that is important but how he lives.**

* * *

In Thorin's life those five years were the happiest he'd ever know. Never had he laughed, loved and lived so freely and carelessly. Each day he discovered that the simple life was far more beautiful and far more rich than any gold that could be offered.

Lif was a constant certainty, strong and compassionate, she was his perfect other half and Soulmate. Not a day went by when she would smile at him and give him the oxygen to breathe again. On sunny afternoons sat on the grass in the Rook garden, Thorin would often find himself wondering what his life was like before Lif. As he remembered it, it had been cold and barren and grey, she had brought colour like he had never known and their child brought the sunlight.

In the first seconds of Durin's day, not five years ago, Thorin had realised his true purpose. A Seer had once told him that, "**to be whole again you must look to the small and stubborn, bathed in blood and fire, they will fly on wings of change**." At the time he had dismissed this as a mystic's rantings but now they rang true. He had held the Dwarrow in his arms and wept. The two that made him whole were in his arms and close to his heart, now and forever. **

* * *

The Dwarrow stared up at him with startling intelligence. It studied his face, mesmerised by the giant who hummed with a voice that was so deep, it made the hairs stand up on its new skin.

Lif watched as Thorin cradled their child to his chest, his strong arms were its haven as if nothing could get past them. They studied each other silently; Lif could feel the love rush off Thorin like waves hitting rocks and the Dwarrow accepted it, growing stronger from this unbreakable bond.

There was a gentle knock on the door, looking reluctantly away from Thorin and the Dwarrow, and Lif pulled a shawl over her shoulders. "Come in," she called in a gentle tone, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness that had fallen. Dwalin peeped nervously round the edge of the door and grinned nervously: he was like a toddle meeting a new sibling. Roäc at Dwalin's feet bobbed his head and began to hobble over to the bed, Dwalin followed suit, but keeping himself at a safe distance: he wrung his hands and swallowed.

"How are...I mean, you're..." Dwalin began to mumble awkwardly, he'd gone pale and tongue tied, looking down at his feet. It was odd for him, not only had his two best friends married but now they had children, he couldn't be more happy for them but hated himself as he feared he had no place amongst them anymore. But Dwalin was no good at poker because Lif could always read him like a book.

"Sit down you fool, before you faint," Lif ordered lightly, pointing to the end of the bed. Dwalin nodded thankfully and ran a hand over his Mohawk. Lif turned back to Thorin who was obliviously gazing at the Dwarrow in silent awe, Lif touched him gently on the shoulder and he reluctantly looked up. "Shall we let Dwalin hold his Goddaughter?" Thorin glanced up and smiled at his friend just realising he was there and nodded at Lif. His kissed the Dwarrow on the forehead then let Lif scoop the bundle out of his arms.

Dwalin's head snapped about in wild panic as Lif carefully stood off the bed and walked around to stand in front of Dwalin.

"Me! I can't be a Godfather, I don't know anything, and I'll be no good!" Dwalin whispered in frenzied panic, but Lif ignored him and laid her daughter on his shoulder and, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, put his tattooed hands on the Dwarrow's back.

"Lif and me couldn't think of anyone better, you'll have Dis to help you and besides you great Oaf...it looks like you're doing alright to me," Thorin said ruefully, leaning forward to watch his daughter fall asleep on Dwalin's shoulder.

"You can train her when she's old enough and keep her out of trouble when me and Thorin are busy, if I was anything to go by as a Dwarrow, I think we'll need all the help we can get," Lif said smiling sleepily before retreating back to her side of the bed, Thorin puffed up pillows for her and wrapped his arm protectively round her shoulders. Dwalin shifted carefully to look at them both.

"Axe or sword?" Dwalin asked excitably, his mind was a whirl wind as he began to plan a training regime, years in advance. Thorin cocked his eyebrow and was about to argue when Lif cut in.

"Sword, I'll give her Demon when she comes of age," Lif said proudly, the serrated blade was her only remaining family heirloom; given to her ancestor in the first age by the first line of Numenor, it was beyond priceless. Though its true name had been lost to the passing of time, in her youth Lif had named it herself, Demon: because it hurt like hell. Before anything else could be said Roäc hopped onto the bed frame and cawed lyrically, bobbing his head.

"May the chick fly strong," Roäc said, stretching out his wings and bowing low to Thorin and Lif.

"Thank you my King, it means much to me to have your blessing," Lif said genuinely, inclining her head to him. Roäc hopped down the wooden bed frame and peered at the sleeping Dwarrow inquisitively.

"In our culture a chick must be named before it is born or it will lose its soul to feline wraths. Have you had a naming?" Roäc asked Thorin, fluffing his feathers and shaking them out. Lif and Thorin looked at each other blankly and then at Dwalin. Thorin couldn't believe they'd forgotten to name her; Lif had called her Bump since she'd started to show but a true name... it was as if all names evaporated instantly from Thorin's mind.

"We'll take suggestions," Lif said hopefully, licking her lips and biting the inside of her cheek.

"What about Warhammer?"Dwalin suggested helpfully, as he rubbed the Dwarrow's shoulder blades soothingly with his thumb.

"NO!" Thorin and Lif said at once, both voices coming out louder than they expected. The Dwarrow shifted and yawned, popping a pudgy fist into her mouth and drooled over it. Roäc fluttered off the bed frame, down onto the blankets, and he stared silently for a moment up at the Dwarrow's face. He cocked his head to one side and ruffled his wings absently before turning to Thorin and Lif.

"We have an ancient name, that I think would befit the chick of Thorin and the Priestess of Muninn-"Roäc paused and waited for objections, when none came he continued. "Branwen. It means beautiful raven, and is saved for the highest of flyers."

Lif let the name circulate round her head and tested it on her tongue. "Branwen." She turned and looked at Thorin who was grinning dreamily at her, they both nodded.

"What do you think of Branwen, Dwalin?" Thorin asked his friend, a smile still curling his lips. Dwalin frowned and thought for a second, then circled his hands round the Dwarrow's chest and lifted her off his shoulder and held her out in front of him. She opened her eyes and frowned at him, obviously annoyed that he had disturbed her sleep.

"Branwen? Well, if you don't like it we can always call you Warhammer."

* * *

**Paradise Lost**

The fire had burned low but the morning sun that streamed through the large window warmed the blankets of Thorin and Lif's bed. The ravens cawed as they flew in the distant sky and the smell of spring was in the air.

Thorin rolled over and rubbed his eyes, blinking sleep from them, he cast his eyes about the small hall. It was still early but he still considered it a lie in. He snuggled back down in the blankets and pulled Lif closer, until she fit perfectly against his body, and pressed her lips just ender his ear.

"Good morning," she mumbled sleepily, still most asleep.

"It is indeed. Bran lasted all night and not a peep, that's my girl," Thorin smiled and stroked Lif's hair, pushing himself deeper into his pillow. Since Branwen was born their lives had been complete and happy. She was a good Dwarrow who ate with gusto and grew so strong that Dwalin was begining to run drills with her, but her only flaw was sleeping. They had expected her to cry as a Dwarrow but waking seven maybe eight times a night was exhausting and it had carried on, though less frequent Branwen would wake up at random times during the night and wake them up. She wasn't scared of anything, just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. It had been trying for Thorin and Lif but, as with everything, they got through it.

They would have fallen back to sleep when a brunette blur launched into the air and landed on the two of them. Laughing and growling little Branwen playfully attacked her sleepy parents.

Lif groaned and patted her daughters head. "I guess we spoke to soon. Coffee my Love?" if Thorin nodded she didn't see as he was too busy wrestling with the giggling infant.

Coffee had become an almost religious part of their day now, since they'd had Branwen. Though Lif enjoyed every minute of being a mother, the magic bean from the far west gave her the burst of energy she needed in the mornings.

While the coffee brewed, Thorin played hide and seek under the bed covers with Branwen, Lif watched from the kitchen as the two of them played. It had been clear from the first moment that as Thorin had held Bran that it was love at first sight, but as the months turned to years, their relationship was more of two kindred spirits than Father and daughter. Best friends no matter how naughty she'd been, Thorin couldn't be stern with her; the solemn Prince she first met, had melted into a big old softy! Though Lif didn't mind, it was actually nice to see him have fun for once.

Returning with a three mugs carefully balanced in hand, two coffees and one hot milk; she set them down on the bed side and looked down at the two of them.

"Are you making your Father's hair pretty again?" Lif asked Branwen, who tilted her head up and grinned mischievously at her mother, though she continued to "braid," Thorin's hair.

"No, not again sweetheart," Thorin groaned, he sat up in bed and looked at his daughter levelly. "Do you know how long it took me to get your knots out?" But his face cracked into a smile when Branwen giggled and peeped at him behind her hands. He couldn't even pretend to be mad at her. Thorin took hid mug of coffee off the bedside table and watched his wife and daughter.

She was exactly like Lif but then again completely opposite at the same time, though when she decided to start talk Thorin suspected she would gain her mother's temper. She had long black hair that would turn reddish brown in the summer sun, her skin was pale like Lif's but when she blushed her entire face and neck would glow pink. From birth her eyes had been brilliant green but had settled into a mist marsh green which was paler than her mother's jade, it was a perfect mixture of Thorin's icy blueness and Lif's sea green. Her cheek bones were high and sharp as his mothers had been and it was clear she had his chin and angry glare: and on more than one occasion she and Lif had crinkled their eyebrows in exactly the same way. She was mischievous and sometimes even naughty, more than once Thorin had caught her playing with Lif's perfume bottles, but didn't have the heart to tell her off. Branwen hadn't bothered learning to talk yet but laughed and giggled more than even her uncle Frerin did.

Sitting at the bottom of the bed, Lif pulled Branwen into her arms and smoothed her sable hair down, and wrapping her arms about her daughter's waist, nipped playfully at the top of her ear. Branwen laughed and squirmed, trying to get out of her grip but Lif held her tight, rocking her gently.

"You keep knotting Father's hair and you know what we'll have to do... we'll have to tell Thror," Lif and Thorin both chimed in at the last bit, smiling at each other at the inside joke, but both knew their words were hallowed. The King fawned over Branwen even more than Thorin did, in his eyes she could do no wrong, but unlike Thorin at least he could "pretend" to be angry. But he'd suffered a change in the past year or two that had started to show.

* * *

It had been two months after Lif had given birth, in the depths of deepest winter as a snow storm raged outside, Thorin had been rushed to Dale with a contingent to help fix the dam that was about to burst its banks and put Dale under two feet of freezing winter water. Lif had been napping on the sofa with Branwen sleeping on her chest, when there was a knock at the door.

Lif's brow had furrowed, Dwalin had gone with Thorin and Dis was working long nights at the House of Healing, she'd expected no one that day. She got up and gently laid sleeping Branwen in her reed basket, tightened the sash of her cardigan and went to answer the door.

Her jaw dropped on the floor and she only gaped. King Thror stood smiling amicable, oblivious to her dumbstruck nature; he hooked his thumbs in his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet.

"I suppose congratulations are in order my dear, but first I would like to see my great grandchild," he said in a light but matter-of-fact tone. Lif's mouth went dry and she nodded, letting the door swing wide. The King strode in, ducking his head so as not to knock off his tall crown and pushed a brown paper box tied with string into her arms. He looked down at Branwen as she slept peacefully in her basket; he smiled to himself and rubbed his hands together in a way that suggested longing.

"You may pick her up, if you want to my Lord," Lif said respectfully, it was odd to use the title again; she hadn't said it to Thorin in over a year. She placed the package on the table and went over to the oven to heat a pan of hot cider. Thorin couldn't get enough of the stuff, so she supposed it ran in the family. Thror turned to her and smiled genuinely, patting his large belly in a nervous gesture.

"Oh no, I haven't held a Dwarrow in years. And if she's asleep I wouldn't want to wake her," he glanced back at the silent basket and then at Lif, who pushed hot beaker of cider into his hands.

"Not to worry, she sleeps more during the day than any other time," Lif rambled, patting down her hair nervously.

"Does she really? Thorin never slept, he used to cry all night, I used to hear him sometimes and would come down and take him to the library with me,"- Thror drifted away for a moment as if reliving the event in his mind, Lif shifted nervously in the silence but Thror snapped to reality- "I remember one time I got in so much trouble with Thrain who said I was mollycoddling him but Thetis just laughed and laughed. She looks like Thetis in a way, she'll laugh like her." Lif didn't ask how he knew this but smiled at the memory the King had shared with her until curiosity got the better of etiquette.

"Not meaning to pry my Lord..." Lif began.

"I'm sure you'll do it anyway," Thror smirked taking a big gulp of cider, Lif cleared her throat.

"How did you know about Branwen my Lord? Thorin said..." her voice drifted off as Thror regarded her over the rim of his mug.

"Ah well, call it a "King's hunch", besides he was walking about with a silly grin on his face for weeks, it had to be something other than Bombur's cooking. And do not forget Priestess that I have seen two generations of the line of Durin be born-" he glanced back at the basket-" and now a third. I am proud of what Thorin has found himself here." Thror spoke gently and his grey blue eyes stared into hers, the King's earnest and surety warmed her and his words meant more to her than she could say. But before she could say anything, Thror spoke again. "But have not just come with words, please open my gift."

Lif had thought the King had just given her the package to hold for him, but on closer inspection she saw her title "Priestess, plus one," scrawled in pencil on the brown paper. Tugging at the string and pulling back the paper, Lif glanced at Thror who nodded with reassurance, finally jerking off the cardboard lid. If her lips had been open, Lif swore her heart would have jumped out her mouth.

Inside the box were two adult sized Mithril mail skirts. Even in the dull winter light they shined and winked at her. Tougher than dragon scales, harder than diamond and light as a feather: Mithril was so rare many believed it was a myth.

"Your Majesty I...I don't...I cannot accept such wonderful gifts." Lif said hoarsely, barely daring to run her fingers of the silver weave. Thror made a snorting noise and disregarded her comment with a wave of his hand.

"My Father gave them to me and Aurelia when we were fist married. I see no point in keeping them to protect this old body. No, it is for the next generation to put to good use." He declared justly, spinning on his heel and began looking about the room. He eyed the books that had been in his library and the moved to her maps and parchment, and then paused suddenly over her map of the mountain. "Did you draw this?" He asked curiously, staring down at the pen and ink work and small intricate detail.

"Yes, I drew it but I had friends take points of measurement for me. It is accurate, I assure you." Lif said with pride, the map had been the months of work but it had been a labour of love.

"It is very good, I had meant to do one myself but I fear time ran away with me," Thror said regretfully, then made to put the map down from where he'd picked it up, but Lif stilled his hand.

"It is not nearly a fair exchange but take it in good faith," Lif assured, closing his fingers around the paper. Thror stared at her for a moment then smile, kissed her on the cheek once and striding out the hall, closed the door behind him.

* * *

Finishing his coffee, Thorin set the empty mug on the night stand and leaning forward on his knees, touching their cheeks for a moment. "My Girls, my beautiful girls," he whispered rubbing his thumb along Lif's pale whiskered cheek as Branwen tried to bite his other hand playfully.

Lif stared at her husband and he returned her look, a silent conversation passed between them and Lif nodded. "Come on missy, some morning air will calm you down before breakfast." Lif carried Branwen off the bed and into the kitchen; she helped her on with her boots and buttoned her coat which had been hung up next to Thorin's cloak. Branwen ran to the kitchen door and waited patiently for her mother to open it.

Lif watched Branwen run out into the garden and start to play with the younger Ravens of the flock; she could see Roäc sitting in her apple tree and knew he would keep an eye on her. She closed the door and turned back to Thorin, who had risen from the bed and was running tired hands through his knotted hair.

"I intend to talk to my Father today about Thror," Thorin said quietly, he'd encircled her waist and pulled her against him in a tight hug. Lif stroked his shoulder blades with the tips of her fingers in a soothing manner.

The King had been an inconsistent feature in their lives as the years had passed. He always had time for Branwen, he had been there when she had taken her fist steps, the two had held each other and laughed as Branwen {not barely eighteen months} had tumbled into her Great grandfathers waiting arms. As Branwen's second name day approached he'd even commissioned a secret entrance to be built in the Raven's Rook in case of emergency, he assured them it was for their private use only, protected by two keys: it gave Thorin peace of mind as recently he'd been worrying about the "What if's". The two keys that Eitri made for them were in laid with special runes; one was small enough for Lif to wear under her clothing, while the other was large and durable: he'd offered this one to Thorin but he refused and said "as head of the family, Thror is responsible as much as I am for it's safety." And Thror had accepted the larger key gratefully.

However Thror had not been himself for some time.

"He was up in the Rook yesterday, just stood there with Roäc trying to talk to him and when I called him he called me Aurelia again. He's getting worse," Lif mumbled sadly into Thorin's shoulder as they held each other close. All too suddenly Branwen was jumping up at the door, trying to reach the handle; she just caught it and scrambled into the kitchen scatting mud and lady birds all over the floor.

"How on earth!? You weren't out there for five minutes!" Lif exclaimed as she picked a wriggling worm from her daughter's hair. Branwen giggled and made a muddy hand print on Lif's bare leg, just below her night gown. Lif turned to Thorin who beamed as only a proud father can. Sighing with exasperation, Lif picked Branwen up and passed her over to Thorin, who laughed and recoiled as Branwen tried to smear her dirty face over his.

Lif soaked a wash cloth and tossed it to Thorin, who caught it deftly and began a cleaning wrestle. Lif laughed loudly when Thorin found another worm in his daughter's hair and made a face of utter disgust, then she turned back to prepare breakfast.

Branwen was mildly cleaner by the time Thorin got her to the table and had returned from his own bath, dressed in a fresh blue tunic with slightly damp hair tied back around his head, he looked completely opposite to the dwarf in a wrinkled bed shirt who had awoken next to her this morning.

"Do you want something to eat before you go?" Lif asked spooning a small bowl of porridge out for Branwen. Finishing his second cup of coffee of the day, Thorin washed the mug up, before drying it and putting it back in the cupboard. He caught her by the hips and pulled her towards him, glanced at Branwen who was too busy making porridge paintings on the table to notice them, then claimed her lips for his own.

Passionate and hot, after nearly six years, he still took her breath away.

"Best not, the sooner I go, the sooner I come home," he said quietly as he nuzzled her neck and breathed in her scent, in truth her heady perfume of coffee and almonds would be enough to carry him through to the morning. She tilted her head up to look at his directly.

"When will you talk with your father?" She asked gently, knowing that Thorin dreaded the conversation so much that he'd put it off for months.

"I have to check the lower balconies with Balin, and then I'm having lunch with my father. I'll bring the subject up then," Thorin spoke solemnly and quietly. How had it come to this? Getting lost in his own mountain, having hallucinations, dancing on piles of gold... Thorin couldn't stand by the sidelines and watch Thror become a shadow anymore.

He was looking far off into the distance when Lif tugged gently at his beard and he tilted his head down to her.

"Melhek, ar baraz," Lif whispered and pressed her forehead against his. Sighing deeply as he pulled away and strode over to where Branwen poked at her porridge. He kissed her hair and she locked up at him.

"Are you going to miss me?" Thorin asked hopefully, hoping that she would decide to talk suddenly. But she stood up on the chair and wrapped her little arms around his neck. For a moment the just embraced each other, Father and daughter holding on to each other tightly, but then Branwen leaned back and licked Thorin's face sloppily.

"Ahhh! You little monster!" he exclaimed, wiping porridge laced saliva from his cheek. Waving at Lif one last time, he pulled the door open and exited, with his wife's and daughter's laughter still ringing in his ears.

* * *

**And all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put Thorin back together again.**

Lif and Branwen both finished their breakfast together, for by the time if had wiped the mud of her leg and rung out the dish cloth Branwen was half way through her second bowl of porridge, Lif finished her second cup of coffee then turned to her daughter.

"Bath time?" Lif asked knowingly that Branwen would smile broadly and clap her hands together in excitement. Putting the breakfast bowls in the sink, Lif rested Branwen on her hip and went into the bathroom. Sitting Branwen on the sink, Lif turned on the bath taps and drizzled a little camomile oil into the steaming water. While the water rose slowly, Lif turned back to Branwen and started unlacing the front of her long nightgown.

"Did Father tell you, aunty Dis and Big Eitri are coming tonight," Lif said cheerily, smiling as Branwen bounced with excitement. Aunty Dis always brought Branwen the maple and almond perfume that she loved and Eitri let her "braid" his black locks. Though Dis and Eitri had well been inseparable for some time and Lif doubted that they were "just friends" as they liked to appear, in truth Eitri was coming to discuss Branwen's first suit of leather training armour that she'd get for her birthday on Durin's day.

Tossing Branwen's and then her own nightgown in the washing basket, they both got in the stone bath together. At first Branwen and Lif splashed about and blew bubbles, then Lif poured maple and almond oil that Branwen loved so well on to her hair, and began to comb it through with her fingers.

She hummed the lullaby that Thorin had taught her when Branwen had first been born. Slow and melodious, the Durin song was sacred to the house and a guarded secret that only the immediate heirs of Durin knew. But what Branwen didn't know couldn't weigh on her mind.

She got out the bath first, while Branwen made herself a beard out of bubbles, she towelled herself down then got dressed in one of her simple woollen tunics that Thorin hated but was practical for day to day work about the Rook. Returning to the Bathroom, Lif pulled Branwen from the bath and wrapped her in a fluffy towel, so that she looked like a white dandelion head. Dressing her in a simple blue tunic with a warm white woollen under shirt, Lif sat her in front of the fire so her hair dried.

Branwen was busy making shadows with her hands; Lif let her play as she turned to look at her to-do list for the day when she felt the first tremor. She could hear the plates and glasses clink in the cupboard growing steadily louder, the wooden table and chairs began to shake, and a beep booming grew into a crescendo until the entire mountain seemed to be vibrating with energy.

Branwen let out a terrified scream and tried to run to her mother, but Lif heard the violent rattle of the glass panes in the windows. Adrenaline surged through her body, leaping over the sofa, she wrapped her arms protectively around Branwen and pinned her to the floor just as the entire window exploded inward. A devastating crack and then shatter boomed in their heads, Lif managed to press her hands over Branwen's ears, as air was sucked in and then out of the room like a deadly vacuum. Papers and curtains whirled in the maelstrom, it tugged and pulled at them but Lif used her weight to anchor them to the ground.

It felt like an eternity but eventually the wind fell, being replaced with acid smoke which hung like a fog about the room, Lif glanced just in time to see a red blur shooting past the empty window frame. But she couldn't think about that now. As she pulled crying Branwen to her feet and checked for injuries, just as Dwalin burst through the door and slammed it against the wall.

He was out of breath but whiter than the freshest snow under the layers of soot that covered his face. The warrior was terrified like Lif had never seen him, his eyes wild and his teeth gritted together: cold sweat covered his face and neck.

"What is it?!" Lif asked urgently, her nerves as tight as a bow string; she already stood in a defensive fighting stance: all the worst scenarios played through her head at once causing sickly bile to rise in the back of her throat.

"Dragon! We must go now, the guard cannot hold it off," Dwalin ordered, his voice hoarse with battle frenzy. She stared at him dumbstruck with disbelief, Lif would have thought him insane if she hadn't known him all her life, he gripped the door frame for support with white knuckles and ushered them out the door without a moments delay. Lif managed to grab her sword belt and Branwen's coat as they sprinted out Rook Hall.

Branwen jumped into Dwalin's hands with a well practiced leap and he held her tightly as they ran, she trembled and buried her face in Dwalin's hair but Lif didn't have time to worry. She was working on adrenaline, like a machine, to think would have been to falter and she could afford that now.

She skidded and slipped on the hay of Rook, Lif humbled as she dragged her key from within the bodice of her dress, letting out a snarl of frustration she tore the chain free from her neck and jammed it into the lock. The silver outline shone out of the rook and a large doorway topped with a wide pair of feathered wings appeared almost instantly. Lif stamped impatiently and resorted to throwing her shoulder against the glowing Dwarf door.

Suddenly there was a grind of stone and a gush of air and dust, and the door opened about a foot and a half. Dwalin gave Branwen to Lif who squeezed through easily, and then with one reluctant backwards glance, the warrior dwarf pushed himself through the narrow gap and closed the door behind him.

From the hidden door they quickly scaled down gravelled slope and onto a steep grassy hillside, Lif had to walk carefully as not to slip on the dewy grassy with Branwen still in her arms, she just kept her close to her chest and her head pressed into her neck. Lif wouldn't let her see the dark churning sky or the rising clouds of black smoke that rose from the gates or the dancing flames that touched the horizon of Dale: she wouldn't let her see but she couldn't keep out the noises.

Lif covered her mouth with her hand to stop from gagging at the fog of black smoke that engulfed them; tears ran freely down her eyes and her struggled to see where she was going. She felt Dwalin's hand on her back, urging her gently forward. They stumbled together and soon reached a small outcrop of poplar trees as they reached the lower slopes of the mountain after walking for more than an hour.

Under the shadow of the trees they were sheltered from the smoke and ash that battered them. With dry, gravelly mouths, and skin that scorched in the fiery air, their energy ebbed quickly and Lif found Branwen like a dead weight in her arms. They stopped, making sure they were shielded from view and leaned thankfully against a trunk that hadn't been burnt to ash.

"Thorin...?" Lif asked panting for breath, her face flushed and her chest rising and falling rapidly, as she questioned her old friend.

"He was getting people out through the gate, he couldn't have reached you in time, he said..." Dwalin shifted uncomfortably, frustration bunching his muscles in his arms and glanced back to my mother, his shoulders slackened and his face sagged slightly. Dwalin's soot stained face flushed and burned, he swallowed a lump in his throat and dragged pooling tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

Lif was at his side in a moment. It was as if they were children again and he'd broken one of his mother's best plates. But unlike a plate, this couldn't be fixed with glue. The Mountain was lost; the people were running for their lives, they were running for their lives.

"Dwalin it's going to be alright. We are not his only responsibility, I know this," Lif said, making herself smile at the warrior who smiled back, soot and smoke streaking his face. Lif looked down at Branwen in her arms and tucked some hair behind her ear. "We'll worry about us first, then Father later, wont we? My little Dwarrow," she had sorrow in her eyes but kept the smile on her face and her voice light.

Branwen smiled at the mention of Thorin and sat up with interest, tugging at Dwalin's beard playfully, he chuckled and all the sadness disappeared from his posture. Tucking his hands under Branwen's arms, he lifted her easily out of Lif's arms and settled her against him, holding her so close that her legs wrapped round his waist.

"Right then!" Lif said suddenly in a miltary manner, placing her hands firmly on her hips "what's the plan of action?" Over the next few minutes Dwalin and Lif organised their strategy. Armed with Demon and one of hunting knife that Dwalin kept in his boot and no supplies, they were in a vulnerable position. But Lif and Dwalin had always been a good team and had got out of some tight spots before, though Lif couldn't remember them ever being as bad as this.

"So we are agreed?" Dwalin asked, glancing up at the partially covered sun to check how much daylight they had left.

"I think it's our only option, Thrandruil will have seen the smoke and bound by the peace treaties to come to our aid. If we make for the Greenwood at least we'll run into one of his elves, who can then lead us to Thrandruil and hopefully Thorin," fear wrenched her heart as she thought about him, so many dangers and uncertainties could dash him to pieces at any moment, Lif felt helpless: but for the sake of Branwen she kept her voice hopeful.

"There's no hopeful about it Lif, Thrandruil is bound by alliance lore. He will have taken our people under his care and Thorin will be rallying them as we speak," Dwalin said with pride, hitching Branwen higher on his waist and giving Lif a determined nod before moving off from the relative safety of the trees.

It was hard going, at the foot of the mountain the ground was scorched and burnt. Burning embers and fiery ash still smoked and burnt through the soles of their boots. By the time the sun was falling and the milk green outline of the Greenwood appeared on the horizon, Lif and Dwalin were both trailing blood as the hardened flesh on their feet blistered. But they kept moving they couldn't afford to stop in what would be known as "the Desolation."

Branwen didn't make a noise or cry, she was silent and watchfully, she placed her hand against Dwalin's cheek to give him reassurance and stared of into the distance at the smouldering mountain.

The moon was high when they finally stopped, at the very western tip of Dwarf lands; they were not a few hours walk from the Greenwood. The grass was not scorched here, so setting Branwen carefully down, Lif and Dwalin collapsed on the grass in exhaustion.

"We should have seen riders or at least a scout by now; do you think we have missed them?" Lif asked anxiously, her mouth was dry with ash and sooty and her voice hoarse from lack of water, she cast her eyes around and scanned the horizon.

Dwalin sat up and ran his hand over his Mohawk, then tugged his beard thoughtfully. "They may have centred their efforts on elsewhere but as soon as we get into the Greenwood the elves will sense we're there. They have ways of knowing. "

With no food and only the water that formed as dew on the grass, the three of them tried to sleep, but it was not much use. They could hear the distant collapse of building and explosions in the night, the blackness of the night sky was tinged with a fiery redness that was like a glass of blood in a glass of water. With the taste of smoke stuck to the dryness of their throats, silence fell over them like a thick cold blanket.

Until Branwen pulled away from her Mother's arms, sat up and screamed into the night's sky. High pitched and wild, it was as if she had pierced by a Morgul blade, her voice cut the night like a knife and awakened all around them.

Dwalin swore loudly and covered his hands over his ears, while Lif grabbed Branwen by the shoulders and shook her.

"Branwen, you will stop this at once! Do you hear me!?" Lif demanded urgently, shaking her daughters shoulders and stare deep into her eyes. Branwen's breath caught in her throat as her voice died, she blinked at her mother's as if coming back to herself and realising where she was.

Lif would have stroked her daughter's cheek and given her reassurance but lights appeared over the hills. This time both Dwalin and Lif cursed.

Goblins.

Lif and Dwalin had hunted any that strayed into Dwarf lands often enough to know their screeching voices and animalistic gaits, the moon was high and clear, they were out in the open and outnumbered. At the bottom of the grassy ridge, five armoured Orc's first caught sight of their prey, sending up a high bone chilling war cry into the sky as they relished the hunt to come.

It was a Night Raid and they began to slowly advance.

" Go! Go now and I will hold them of as long as I can!" Dwalin spun and forcibly shoved Lif back, but she bared her teeth and snarled.

"I maybe a mother Dwalin Gefion Fundinson but I was a warrior first and foremost and you should not underestimate the strength a mother has!" Lif growled the words through her teeth as she dragged Demon from its sheath. Dwalin nodded at her thankfully, he didn't to die alone any more than she wanted to run alone. Lif turned to Branwen, knelt in front of her and pressed her hands either side of her face, staring at her with a feverish intensity that made her shiver. "Branwen you need to listen to me now. You are to run and hide, do not look back, do not falter. **Run and hide! **Do not come out until you hear my voice, do you understand? I will find you," Lif fought the tears of pride that threatened to spill down her cheeks as Branwen clenched her fists and nodded silently. Pressing a hurried kiss to her Dwarrow's forehead and pushed her gently away.

Branwen stood for a moment as the first two Orcs advanced.

"GO!" Dwalin bellowed at her as he sliced into the first Orc's neck. Branwen was hit with a shower of blood and whirled away nearly falling, and sprinted with blood thumping in her ears. He spurn just in time to see an Orc before him, its axe raised high and a serrated blade sticking out its chest. Lif kicked the body away and flicked hair out of her eyes.

"Just like old times," she said ruefully, dropping into a defensive stance and raising her sword to the sky. The three remaining Orcs bounded up the hill, the two smaller heading straight for Lif with axe and sword raised, snarling madly. The largest and ugliest ran at Dwalin, tackling him by the middle.

"FOR EREBOR AND FOR VENGENCE!" The war cry ripped from her lungs as she parried their blows quickly making one stumble into the other. With a downward arc, Demon slashed downwards across a beasts belly and he stumbled back. The others advanced and rained axe blows down on her, but Demon was too quick and too clever, their weapons collided and with a flick of her wrist she pushed the axe of the way and let the serrated blade sink deep into the Orcs neck. The Orc's eyes bulged and he spat blood over her face, she kicked him away.

The second Goblin rose from nowhere and punched her in the face with the hilt of his sword, Lif fell backwards onto the, winded and her temple bleeding but that was not what made her blood freeze in her veins. Dwalin laid two meters away, his dagger far beyond his reach and the largest goblin stood astride him, sword pointed directly over his heart: the animal leered at her friend, enjoyed the fear he tasted on his tongue.

Something snapped in Lif.

Earth and grass ripped under her nails and she scrambled to her feet, she ran madly, Dwalin watched in slow motion as she advanced sword at her side, ready to lay the final blow on his attacker. But her blade never fell.

Dwalin's heart stopped beating in his chest and air roared past his ears as two terrible things happened at once. Lif was about to thrust her sword through the large Orc, when a sword burst through her stomach with a gush of scarlet spray.

Lif halted and as if in a dream, looked down at the blade sticking out of her torso, she didn't say a word but her eyebrows crinkled as if confused. Her lips opened to speak and a line blood ran down her mouth and down her throat.

At the sound of his comrade, the large Orc pivoted and sank his blade into Lif's ribcage, leaning forward and snarling in her face.

Her expression changed suddenly from confused to fury, grabbing a handful of the large Orc's hair she slammed her head in his, its nose broke with a painful CRACK! He tumbled away, dragging his blade from her body, but she paid no attention. She but whirled Demon about in her hand and reaching back, sank it deep into the smaller Goblin's chest. He let out a gurgled cry and fell away, twisting his sword before dragging it from Lif's back.

"That showed the bastards," Lif said quietly and small empty smile playing on her lips. Demon fell lifeless from her hands, as she stood and stared absently at him.

Dwalin was numb. He couldn't make his body obey; his muscles were welded to the earth as he started at his oldest friend ... at Lif. Blood cascaded from the two gaping hole in her torso, drenching the front of her simple brown dress, her hair was wild as if always was but the rosy complexion had drained from her face as if she were nothing more than a shadow of her former self. She lifted her hand and absently touched the single line of blood that ran down her chin and looked at the scarlet wetness on her fingers.

Dwalin made himself move as she began to sway and in slow motion she landed in his arms, looking up at him with empty eyes.

"Lif...I can get you help, just stay with me, that's an order!" Dwalin heard himself say the desperate words but even as he uttered them he knew all was lost.

"Come now, you cannot lie to me. Not to me, my old friend," Lif said, her voice was barley a whisper and her blood drained lips barely moved.

"Then I promise to avenge you. I swear on the small amount of Durin blood that runs through my veins that I will make them pay for the blood they have split." Even to his ears his vow sounded weak, Dwalin choked back a painful sob and ran his thumb along her cheek bone, leaving a on smudge of blood in his wake.

"No Dwalin. No more blood," Lif said before retching up a mouthful of blood over her chin, her lungs wheezed and she struggled to get her breath. There was a rumble of thunder over head and Dwalin threw his head back to the raging sky and screamed for the gods help, for justice to be done, to be righted but no help came. He felt Lif's fingers tightened around his own. "Find Branwen and make sure she grows well. Protect her and Thorin, care for him now I cannot. Make sure they find peace that is the only vow I need."

As she said these words, her fingers clenched painfully around Dwalin's and blood filled her throaty, choking her. Dwalin tried to keep her jaw open with his hand as he rocked back and forth with Lif's body, but her backed arched and then her hand fell from his.

Dwalin wished to be empty, to be a shell without emotions but he was not. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he pulled her lifeless body and held her, shaking with tearless sobs until he had no more energy. He closed her eyes and laid her down on the cool grass. Then smoothed down her hair and kissed her once on each temple and eyelid. Crossing her hands over her stomach, and straightened her dress.

With no backward glance, he left her in peace on the hilltop and the dawn sun began to rise over the horizon.

* * *

**_The Aftermath_**

It would be two weeks before Dwalin was found. Barely alive and suffering from starvation and thirst, he lay unconscious on banks of the Lake when he was found by a small contingent of Dwarves led by Eitri. Laketown had closed its doors to the lost folk of Erebor and Eitri had been sent to round any wanders to the campsites Thorin had set up in the east. But there was many others dwarves who could have done a better job than him. He knew the real reason he had been sent.

From the first second he laid eyes on the unconscious dwarf, Eitri knew what he must do. Even as he barked his orders, a horse was saddled and he and injured Dwalin rode into Erebor makeshift campsite.

Word had spread of his arrival and before the hour was out, Thorin was sat with Dis who nursed Dwalin as best she could. And Thorin had waited, night and day, without food or sleep to hear news of his wife and child. After four days of waiting Dwalin awoke and wished he hadn't.

He kneeled at Thorin's feet and his fingers dug into the ground as he told the story of their flight from Erebor, the night raid by Orcs – all his tears had been cried until he could cry no more, but a fist sized lump made it difficult to talk when he spoke of Lifrasir's death.

For more than an hour Thorin listened to Dwalin's account, as cold as marble and still as a frozen lake, he neither spoke nor offered any comfort, until Dwalin paused and waited for judgement to be laid upon him.

"And what of my child? What of Branwen?" His cold flinty voice had asked.

O, Dwalin had looked, he had looked until his legs gave to and he fell in the mud, the he'd crawled, crawled until his palms were bloodied, he screamed her name just then he'd lost his voice and he'd succumbed to the darkness.

Thorin was silent for a long time and then laid a hand on his friends shoulder. "Leave. I need time." Dwalin hesitated and then limped out of the tent, ever mindful of Lif's last wishes.

From that day onward it would be only the gods who knew how he suffered. Each day was a knew torture. He was sleep with his eyes open waiting for her head on his chest and her warmth at his side; he had to remember how to breathe without her scent. He would learn every day how to stand and how to eat tasteless food and speak like he cared whether he lived or died.

Months after Smaug's attack, Thorin marched outside of the camp and built a pyre. Its smoke reached the sky and scorched the stars themselves. He looked down at the two straw figures in his hands.

One doll was the size of his hand, wrapped in the shredded remains of a horses green saddle blanket, and some of his own hair clipped poorly and sworn into the scalp. The other smaller, just the size of his palm, dressed in a blue hanky and with flecks of copper wire in her hair- they were poor renditions but with no bodies to bury it was the only thing he had. No parent should have to bury their child but no parent should ever have to **w**ant a body to bury either.

"Melhek ,ar baraz," he whispered the words and hoped that somewhere she had heard them, kissing the two dolls he tossed them into the flames and turned his back on the fire.

It was Durin's day and no songs were being sung.

Thorin walked for years as a wraith on the edge of life, only eating when the others were full and taking no joy in it when there was food on the table, he slept to maintain his body and smiled to keep the morale of his people, but that was all. He spent time with himself and avoided his family.

But one night he awoke to find Eitri stood over his bed with a torch in his hand and flushed complexion. "I beg you not to argue but rise and follow me." The dark haired dwarf said simply, retreating outside Thorin's tent so that he might dress. Then he followed, Eitri extinguished his torch and held open his tent flap for him.

Inside Dis sat, ringing with warm light, her golden hair stuck to her sweaty brow and her smile was joyous. Thorin looked on the bundle in her arms blankly.

"Brother, meet your nephew." Dis had said, as Eitri had pushed his firmly into a sitting position. He tried to protest but Dis had ignored him and pushed the bundle into his arms.

Thorin had looked down at the brilliant golden eyes and baby blonde locks, the Dwarrow had reached for him and he took the Dwarrow's hand and held it. The gates of Thorin's mind opened and all the pain and misery had spilled out with the single tear that fell down his cheek. Pulling the Dwarrow close, he looked at his sister and lover properly for the first time months.

"What is his name?" He'd asked, as he hummed gently to the tiny dwarf in his arms.

"Fili, his name is Fili," Eitri had said proudly, leaning down to kiss Dis on the lips. Thorin turned his eyes back to Fili, who watched his uncle with amused interest.

"Fili is a strong name. He will do it proud." –

The End

Melhek ,ar baraz – my love be safe


End file.
